Our Lady of Sorrows
by potionsmistress26
Summary: And Hermione Granger thought this same thought every blessed morning for the past eight years. It wasn't as if she truly hated her life…She simply hated what she had become. Includes HG, HP, SS
1. Chapter 1

_Harry Potter does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form..._

It was a morning, just as similar to every other morning these past few years. The alarm clock uttered its faithful _buz_zzz at precisely 5:20 in the morning. A slender arm quickly relinquished itself from a massive paisley navy comforter to shut off the insistent sound.

The tiny bedroom quieted in an instant.

The arm hovered for a moment, its fingers lingering on the 'off' button, before quickly jutting back beneath the safety of the blanket. A pair of brown eyes peaked above the blankets, straining against the neon aqua of the alarm clock, peering at the current time through sand-crusted eyelids. Acknowledging the current time without argue, she slowly closed her eyes in defeat, and before removing her covers and choosing to begin her day, the young woman let a single thought escape her mind:

'_I hate my life.'_

The woman thought this same thought every blessed morning for the past eight years. It wasn't as if she _truly _hated her life….

…_She hated what she had become._

She had become a routine, an emotionless shell. She was good at what she did, no question about it. Those that came in contact with her asking for her advice were quite pleased and heeded her suggestions. But though she was excellent at her profession, the woman was not happy. She was hardly fulfilled, feeling as though she was missing something in her life. Something that she yearned for, but dare not speak of. But it was that routine: that same routine for the past eight years that kept her going…that kept her _alive._

Every morning she would wake up, cursing the beginning of a new day, and would settle in the same routine that she had established for herself for the past eight years.

The routine worked well for her. Like clockwork, she would wake up, shower, brush her teeth, dress, eat a spot of breakfast and drink a single cup of plain tea, and would head out the door. She would watch no television in the morning, avoid the radio at all costs, and would only skim the first page of the local newspaper that arrived at her doorstep every morning.

She would greet no neighbors as she left her home for the day. After all, the woman's tiny home was amongst few in the area, and she gathered that although her town was quite unpopulated, most people in their right state of mind were not up at 5:50 in the morning when she left for work.

The woman drove a short distance to work, reveling in the silence that surrounded her in her vehicle. She was never, _ever_ late, and more often than not parked in the same secluded parking space that she was fond of.

The woman got out of her vehicle, closed the drivers' side door with a soft _thud_, opened the door to the back seat and reached in to grab her white coat and tawny brown bag – a bag that she had kept for many, _many_ years. As the woman reached for the bag, she took a moment to regard its tattered handle and shabby exterior. She had thought about throwing it away countless times before, but she just couldn't bring herself to do so.

…After all, it _was _one of her last remaining pieces of her past memories.

Of _those_ memories.

Memories of family and friends. Memories of gatherings, feasts, celebrations. And memories of pain, loss and so _much _heartache…

Thinking of the bag sent a wave of emotion over the young woman, and she silently cursed herself for thinking such thoughts. She had parted with those memories so long ago – how _dare _they surface and interrupt her thoughts.

The woman's dark brown, low-heeled clogs padded softly on the asphalt below. The morning fog still blanketed the surrounding land and softly clouded the building in front of the young woman. She stepped carefully, purposefully towards her place of work, counting the number of steps it took her to reach the front door.

She walked passed a few other cars, walked in silence towards the front entrance of the building, passing the dark wooden sign with off-yellow lettering reading '_Saint Lucy Community Hospital_.' She disliked the shabby-looking sign, and wished that in some small way it were livelier; more inviting. Even if she spoke up, no one would listen to her suggestion. The sign would eventually stay like that for the next twenty years, until the damned thing fell apart completely, warranting a completely new sign. The young woman thought it best to keep her mouth shut, and let the course run as it may.

She walked in the front entrance of the hospital, through the automatic glass doors, passing a small triage area on her left, and waving to two nurses who were each sitting on stools in one of the rooms. Both nurses received the wave, and each smiled warmly, greeting the young woman. The young woman said nothing, offering a small pathetic smile in return and continued towards the elevator, carrying about her business.

Pushing the number '3', the elevator creaked and groaned ever so slightly as it climbed towards the third floor of the hospital. The young woman took a minute to look around at her surroundings. A piece of paper was taped haphazardly to one of the walls within the elevator.

'_Tuesday's Cafeteria special: Chicken and dumplings with a side of string beans.'_

'_Well, thank God for that,_' the woman sarcastically thought to herself. After all, it was Thursday, _not_ Tuesday. And seeing the words 'chicken' and 'dumplings' in the same sentence this early in the morning made her stomach just ever so queasy.

The elevator doors opened slowly, the right one moving faster than the left, and the woman sighed and exited the lift onto the third floor. She inhaled deeply and scrunched up her nose. It smelled like lemon and roses. And alcohol pads. All mixed in one.

'_How the hell is that even possible_?' the young woman silently asked herself as she shook her head.

But it was no matter. There were always strange smells in the hospital. Smells that were the same, and some that were different. And some that you never, _ever_ wanted to smell again in your life. But such was the vocation that the young woman chose. And along with her choice of work, came the multitude of unwelcomed smells.

She passed a stand-up sign with the words '_Family Practice_,' written in big bold plastic lettering, complete with the young woman's name on it. On this particular morning, she didn't even bother to look at the sign. Truth be told, she rarely looks at it anymore. _Why should she?_ She knew who she was, knew why she was there, knew what she had to do. And anyway, her nameplate was missing a single letter at the end of her last name. She vaguely remembered seeing a toddler picking up the piece of plastic and teething on the letter 'R' earlier this week. Perhaps he took it home with him as a parting gift.

Marie, the Family Practice secretary on the third floor, scurried out from behind her desk and greeted the young woman head-on. She was in her late 30's, but still felt the need to refer to the young woman as 'dear' or 'honey.' The young woman let it go – it was useless to refute the names, and plus, a part of her missed hearing someone refer to her as 'dear.'

Marie had a worried look upon her face, as her heavily shadowed blue eyes looked up towards the woman in worry.

'Oh I'm so glad you're here!' said Marie.

'_Well, where the hell else would I be at 6 in the morning? Shopping?_' the young woman thought to herself.

Marie continued to speak.

'It's Jack, dear. He…he doesn't look to well. I found him in a right state this morning – throwing up, crying. Thought you 'ought to have a look at him just to be sure. I know that stomach flu has been goin' around, and well…he's just five and all…didn't want him to get too sick, know what I mean dear? I put him in exam room four for now – told him you'd be here soon to take a look at 'em,' she said, not pausing for a breath while speaking to the young woman.

The young woman offered a tight smile and a nod. Passing Marie, she headed off towards exam room four, and opened the slightly ajar door.

Poor Jack was awfully pale. He had a cream colored waste bucket propped next to him, most likely courtesy of his doting mother. Jack looked at the woman with the white coat slung over her arm, and stared at her figure.

The woman placed her coat and sack on a yellow plastic chair next to Jack and peered down at the little boy. Looking at him with soft brown eyes, she inched forward a little to speak to him.

'What seems to be the problem, Jack?' she said in a quiet voice.

Jack stared up at her with an open mouth. In one split second, his eyes bulged slightly and he jerked his open mouth towards the floor, missing the bucket completely, and instead covering the young woman's shoes with various amounts of stomach contents.

…The perfect start, to a perfect morning.

And it was then, that for the second time that morning, Dr. Hermione Granger thought to herself:

'_I hate my life.' _


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Hermione Granger rubbed her hand over her tired eyes, and stifled a tired yawn. She glanced at the aluminum clock on the wall.

'_5:30 – time to go home_,' she thought to herself. Taking a glance at her surroundings, the young woman began tidying up her oak-colored desk, shuffling papers into piles here and there. One pile was for Marie, the secretary. She would give her those papers tomorrow morning. The other pile consisted of charts for Hermione work on the next morning. And another pile, the last, was for her to take and work on at home.

'_Routine_,' the woman thought to herself. Every night she took work home with her. And every night the pile sat on her kitchen table, completely untouched, ready to be brought back completely intact the next morning.

Hermione took hold of her papers to take home, stuffed them haphazardly in her sack, took her white coat from the golden hook off the back of her office door, and shut off the light, never even bothering to give a second glance at her workspace.

Marie had left for the evening. The floor was completely desolate: quiet, calm, no screaming children or whining adults.

Hermione continued down the hallway towards the elevator, stopping in front of the cream colored doors, and pushed the 'down' button alongside the lift. She heard the groaning of the elevator floors below, as it took its time getting to the third floor. While the woman stood silently, she looked down at her slightly worn-out shoes. They showed no evidence of today's events, and Hermione was grateful that the clogs cleaned up so nicely. She made a mental note to purchase the same pair in a black color. Or perhaps gray if black was sold out.

The elevator doors opened slowly, and the woman entered into the lift, pressing '1' as she turned back around to face the doors. The elevator groaned and creaked all the way to the first floor, where Hermione exited the lift and made her way towards the exit of the hospital. Passing once again through the triage area, she noticed a woman sitting patiently with a young boy in one of the waiting rooms. The woman looked tired, worn. She kept an arm around the little boy next to her. But it wasn't the way the mother looked, or the way the boy coughed and sniffled that got Hermione's attention.

It was the little boy's hair. _Red as the sunset._

Hermione unconsciously slowed her pace to take a look at the obviously unwell child, taking notice only to the boy's hair. It was just as similar, just as unruly as a head of hair she had known long ago. The same hair that belonged to someone she had loved…_and lost_.

Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment, before quickening her pace and exiting through the glass doors.

The evening temperature took her by surprise. It was a bit on the chilly side. _Too _chilly for an August night. However the young woman shrugged it off, mentally noting that she had not checked the weather for today, and if she had, a sweater would have most definitely come in quite handy.

Treading quietly to the car, Hermione smiled inwardly. She was glad to be going home. Glad to be going to an empty house where she could remain in her welcoming solitude for the evening. A cup of tea would be in order, and as the young doctor strode to her car, she could already taste the bitter brew of her favorite flavor.

Hermione opened the back door of the car. Throwing her white coat over the back seat, she then proceeded to place her satchel next to her coat. Unfortunately, the young woman had forgotten to clasp the flap of her bag, and the papers Hermione had intended to bring home had spilled from the seat onto the floor.

'_Brilliant_' she thought to herself.

Hermione bent over to reach for the strewn papers. Amongst the casualties was a gray napkin with a phone number of a local house cleaning service, a few research articles here and there, a drawing of a horse (or what she perceived to be a horse) from one of her youngest patients, and finally a tiny blue-colored slip of paper which Hermione was surprised to see.

Before even taking a closer look at the paper, her browed furrowed.

'_Oh, don't even tell me-_' she spoke out loud, obviously displeased at her finding.

And as Hermione picked up the paper, she recognized in a second what it was, and just who it was for.

A sweet elderly woman by the name of Helen Crawford had began seeing Hermione every so often for the past eight years or so for regular checkups regarding her arthritis. Even when Hermione was a medical student, she remembered Miss Crawford as a gentle woman who always had an extraordinary interest in the young doctor. Hermione had thought Helen to be a sweet woman of about seventy years old – still sharp as a tack, and full of wit. She always had a kind word, was punctual for all of her appointments, and was constantly grateful to the young physician for her medical advice.

Hermione, in return, was quite fond of the elderly woman. Her patient's diagnosis of arthritis was not an uncommon one, and truth be told Hermione didn't think it was necessary for Helen to make _quite_ so many appointments to see her, but Dr. Granger was always glad to see the warm eyes and smiling face of Miss Helen Crawford.

And in Hermione's hand this very evening, was a prescription written on a single piece of paper for one Helen Crawford. Yet unfortunately, it was currently lying in the wrong hands.

The young doctor quickly weighed her options as she looked at her wristwatch.

She could hold onto the script until tomorrow, phone the elderly woman in the morning, and have her or one of her reliable friends or family members pick up the slip of paper. Or, Hermione could look up the woman's address and hand her the prescription herself this evening. After all, the medication _was_ pertinent to her diagnosis, and Hermione knew that if she hurried, the script could possibly be filled by tonight.

The latter option, albeit the more complicated and involved option, seemed the most logical to Hermione. She knew offhand that all of her patients lived in or around the area, so the drive would not be too much out of her way.

The young doctor reached into her satchel, and drew out a gray calendar with which she used to jot down appointments, phone numbers and addresses of various clients for home visits, and other random bits of information. Flipping the pages in order to arrive at the letter 'C,' Hermione thought for a moment if she would even _have_ the woman's number.

As luck would have it, she did.

Hermione scrolled up and down the pages, peering at her list of names.

'_Castle, Cooper, Crawford – ah, here it is_,' she spoke aloud to herself.

She saw the woman's name. Glanced at the woman's phone number.

…And then Hermione's eyes stopped cold when she saw Helen's address.

For until this moment, she hadn't paid any attention at all to where this woman lived….until now, that is. Hermione read, and re-read the address, trying to convince herself that it was a mistake, that the address was wrong. But somehow she knew, deep down in her soul that this was no mistake. This was some sort of cruel joke.

…For you see, Miss Helen Crawford lived just but two doors away from Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

…_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix._


	3. Chapter 3

…_.You have got to be kidding_, Hermione thought to herself.

Seeing the printed address made her stomach drop to her knees. Hermione's pulse quickened. Her breathing grew more rapid. And she had an overwhelming rush of adrenaline that soared through her veins.

There was no way, _absolutely_ no way that she would be going back to that neighborhood. To that street. To be only feet away from a place that she had not wanted to see ever again.

Hermione's eyes darted amongst her surroundings. She glanced at the address once again. It was ironic. _Too _ironic. _What were the odds that this woman lived so close to_…

Hermione suddenly banished her next thought.

_No_, she thought to herself for a second time that evening. _Absolutely not. She can come get the prescription another time. Someone can get it for her. Someone can pick it up and-_

And just as Hermione's brain was firing rapid thoughts, she noticed a slight buzzing sound. The young doctor paused for a moment. She instantly located the sound and she reached into her brown satchel, trading her calendar book for a little black and awfully outdated cell phone. Without thinking, she flipped open the top and answered in a huff.

'Dr. Granger,' Hermione said flatly, greeting the person on the other end of the line.

'Oh Dr. Granger! Oh I had hoped you would answer. I seem to have misplaced my prescription that you had written for me earlier today. Would you by any chance – and I realize this _is_ a bit of stretch dear and I _do_ apologize sincerely for what I am about to request – but if you had even the _slightest_ bit of time, and of course if you wouldn't mind, is there any way that you could bring that script to my home this evening? You see, I still have a half hour's time before…'

The woman on the other end of the phone conversation was of course, none other than Miss Helen Crawford. The very woman who lived alone in her house, close to another home that Hermione would have soon liked to forget.

As Miss. Crawford continued in her sweet voice, describing her dilemma of a script left unfilled, Hermione began to go into a silent panic mode once again.

If what Ms. Crawford was saying was true, then the poor woman _was_ in fact in need of her medication. And as Hermione so clearly remembered the oath she had once taken to '_do no harm_,' the answer to the problem became frighteningly clear.

…Hermione had to give Helen Crawford what she was owed.

The young doctor sighed and closed her eyes.

'Yes, Miss Crawford. No, it isn't that far out of my way. I am sure of it. No Miss Crawford, I know that the medication is important. Believe me. Alright, I will see you in about twenty minutes.'

And with that, Hermione closed the flap on her mobile phone with a soft 'click.' She took a moment to stare at the electronic object in her hand. Hermione cursed herself silently for not being more assertive – to tell the older woman to find some bloody way to see _her _at her office!

But Hermione just could not do that. It wasn't her style.

The young doctor reached back into her bag to put away her phone, and took a spare moment to look at Miss Crawford's address _one _last time. While flipping the pages of her calendar to get to the address section in the back, she took a moment to regard the date.

_August 27__th_, she thought to herself, as she looked at the big bold number in the deepest shade of navy.

'Of all days. Of _all fucking _days…' she whispered out loud to herself.

It was one of the worst days of Hermione Granger's life. For August 27th was the exact date that she had lost the love of her life. Her soul mate. The man she was to grow old with until they both left this world. Together.

…And it had left her a broken woman. Even to this very day.

Hermione Granger had never gotten over the death of Ronald Wesley. And it was doubted that she ever would.

The young doctor slammed her calendar into her bag as hard as she could. Fighting back tears, she blindly got into the driver's seat, and closed the door with a 'thud.' She took a moment for her breathing to regain its control while at the same time wiping stray tears with both hands.

_Breathe, Hermione. Breathe_.

She angrily started the car, and was off in an instant. The sooner she got this over with, the better.

Within twenty minutes, Hermione found herself turning onto the quiet street where she needed to be.

_How the hell did I get here so fast?_ she thought to herself.

The drive felt as if it took only seconds from the parking lot of the hospital. The young doctor spent those twenty minutes of travel time thinking. And re-thinking. And driving herself insane with her thoughts.

Truth be told, Hermione didn't even _know_ if the Order of the Phoenix was still in existence, or even if the old house used for meetings remained in use. Ever since…_it_ happened, she had stayed clear of the house. Of her friends. Of just about everyone.

Within those twenty minutes spent driving, a flood of memories washed over the young woman. She had no idea what was going on in the wizarding world these days. The times were long gone when she had used a wand for any purpose. She assumed that Volemort was still lurking about in some shape or form. But it didn't matter. Not really. There were three people gone from her life. Two of them her parents, and the other – her late husband. All killed at the hands of an evil, sadistic _thing_ which Hermione avoided thinking about at all costs.

She could have had revenge, she supposed. Even in the slightest of forms. But where would it have gotten her? Dead? It seemed like a plausible action all those years ago, but Hermione decided upon a different path. A path of strict avoidance and repression. And truth be told, it was working quite well for her. Up until this point, that is.

The death of her parents had been the last straw. As she helplessly watched the cursed fire burn her family home without end, knowing well that her parents were never coming back, knowing that the death eaters had intended for _her_ to be caught in the roaring flames, she stood with the rest of the Order members watching the spellbound blaze.

…And then something in Hermione just…._snapped._

She was tired. Tired of it all. She was tired of fighting the good fight. Tired of seeing the people she loved most die. Tired of having her life _ruined_ before her eyes.

Hermione walked past the Order members to stand closer to the flames. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans grabbing her wand, snapped her wand in two with a 'crack' and hurled the pieces into the blaze. Not caring who surrounded her, not caring what they thought, she sobbed and screamed with all the fury she had left in her tiny frame.

Looking up at the Dark Mark that graced the ebony sky above her home, she spoke at the top of her lungs with great force.

'The _hell_ with it all! All of them g_one _– for what?! FOR WHAT?!' she yelled erratically towards the night sky.

Sensing her immediate distress, Harry instinctively moved closer to her to calm the young witch, but it was too late. She was too far gone. She had had enough. And this was the last straw - the _very _last straw.

Backing away from Harry, from the others, she looked at the crowd with their backs turned from the scene. A fire truck could be heard wailing in the distance.

'Just fucking leave me alone! ALL of you!' she screamed at the Order members present that evening, her hands waving wildly.

'Hasn't he done enough? Hasn't _he_ done enough damage?! Well I'm through with it – I'm done! Just-stay-the-_hell_ away-from-me!' she demanded, tear-stricken eyes full of rage reflecting the burning fire in the moonlight, her chest heaving with each breath.

…And just like that, she vanished. Right from the spot. Never to be heard from or seen again.

It is true that Hermione must not have been thinking clearly that night. For if she were, and she truly _intended _upon destroying her wand, she would know that fire would not have even caused the _slightest _scorch. And after the curse was lifted on the blazing house, the Grangers' charred remains moved, a man in black robes entered the property, scanning the ground, and gently picked up two beautiful pieces of wood that he stored in his cloak without a single notice.

And here Hermione was now. Sitting idly in her vehicle, right outside Miss Helen Crawford's home. Sitting and waiting. And of course, thinking about all those memories she had once sworn to never recall.

She put one arm on the steering wheel and held her head in her hand.

Number 12 could not be seen, no. It was hidden. Hidden between two other houses, secretly tucked away from onlookers. Hermione doubted whether the old Headquarters even existed anymore. Not that she cared. Although she had to admit – current circumstances had unconsciously caused her to care, now_, didn't they_?

Somehow, someway, the young woman suddenly gained the courage to exit out of her vehicle.

She opened the door quickly, and shut it just the same. In an instant, she was dizzy, and a bit nauseated, but she closed her eyes and willed herself to walk. Her shoes carried her to Helen Crawford's address in a swift speed, and she took a slightly sweat-drenched hand up to the side of the door to ring the bell.

_Ding Dong._

Within seconds, the frail, warm face of Helen Crawford appeared at the entrance.

'Why hello dear! Thank you, oh _thank_ you for coming! Please, please come in!' she coaxed.

This phrase was exactly what Dr. Granger _didn't_ want to hear. She had banked on making a quick exit after handing off the piece of paper, but was shooed in by a pair of bony arms.

'Come in, come in,' Miss Crawford begged.

Hermione forced a stiff smile and entered into the tiny home.

The tiny home was quaint, clean, and awfully neat. Just Hermione's style. She took a sniff. _Lemons_, she thought to herself. _Very fresh – and awfully appealing._

'Miss Crawford, honestly, I just…I just came here to drop off the script for you. You had better be off to get it filled before-' and Hermione was cut-off as a liver-spotted hand shot up directly in front of her.

'Please, Dr. Granger. They will be open for a little while longer. I am glad you came over tonight. _Very _glad my dear,' the older woman said.

'I will get you some tea, no? It will do you good. Just a spot before you drive home. Wait here – I'll be right back!'

Miss Crawford exited the living room and made her way towards the kitchen. In the mean time, Hermione sat down at the little dining room table and tried desperately to keep her sanity. The woman was driving her bonkers. Yes, she was sweet. But yes, Hermione _really_ wanted out. She wanted to leave. Wanted to get home, back to her _own_ little world.

'Here you are, my dear' the old woman said, offering Hermione a cup. Hermione grasped the object out of the old woman's hands, thanked her quietly, and studied the cup for a moment.

It looked familiar. Uncomfortably familiar. Which made Hermione quite uneasy all of a sudden.

Some teacups and saucers are quite plain, really, but this one – there was nothing _plain _about this one, that was certain. For as Hermione raised the teacup to her lips, her hand stopped mid-air.

_A bluebird on the cup fluttered his wings._

To make matters worse, he not only fluttered his wings, but he flew towards the handle of the cup.

Hermione's brown eyes widened with fear, her breath caught in her chest. _Was her mind playing tricks on her_? Yes, possibly. She had worked a long, hard day, and possibly her sleepless nights were catching up with her.

But alas, she watched silently as the bluebird outstretched his wings and flew back towards his branch, located closely to the brim of the cup.

Hermione harshly placed the cup on its saucer and placed it on the table in front of her with a _thud_.

'Sugar?! Where do you keep your sugar?!' she asked, an awkward smile upon her face, her voice an octave higher, eyes as wide as saucers.

'In the cupboard next to the refrigerator dear. Just through the door there - right on the first shelf,' said the elderly woman with a sad smile, not bothering to look at the young girl.

'First shelf. Right,' said Hermione. She leapt out of her seat in an instant and barged through the wooden swing door that led to the kitchen. She began to pace, running her hands through her hair.

_Oh dear God…I knew…I KNEW this was a mistake, _she thought to herself. _How the hell am I going to get out of this one?!_

Without thinking, Hermione pulled the cupboard door located adjacent to the fridge. She gasped out loud, as her eyes scanned the shelves before her.

In front of Hermione's face were three shelves.

The top two were filled, absolutely _filled _with prescription bottles. The same medication that Hermione had been prescribing Ms. Crawford for _years._

She grabbed one of the bottles and shook it.

It was _full_.

She grabbed yet another.

It too was full. _Completely_ full.

_What the hell is going on here?_ Hermione wondered, panic stricken, her heart racing.

And next to one of the end bottles on the second shelf was a tattered piece of paper, an old newspaper clipping if you will.

…An old article from the _Daily Prophet_ declaring Dumbledore's death.

Hermione mouthed the headline, and instantly dropped the clipping into the dry counter below, as if it were on fire.

And just then, Miss Helen Crawford made her way into the kitchen.

Hermione turned around, tiny beads of sweat upon her brow, her palms sweaty, her heart pounding through her chest.

The only words she could utter came in a whisper.

'_Miss…Miss Crawford?'_

The old woman gave a sad smile and looked at Hermione with warm eyes.

'Oh Hermione...It was time, my dear. You…you are _needed_. The _Order_ needs you…' she said in the softest of voices, walking closer towards the young doctor.

Hermione could not comprehend any more that moment. At the sound of Helen Crawford's words, Dr. Granger's legs gave out and she slipped into darkness upon the wooden floor of the kitchen.

…And just then, a fluffy orange cat trotted around from under the table and sat perfectly still next to the body on the ground. He looked at the young woman and yawned.

Miss Crawford frowned. She looked at the large feline and sighed.

'Well, Crookshanks – that didn't go very well now, _did it_?'


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Hermione Granger opened her eyes. Quite carefully. She peeked through long lashes, trying to adjust her eyes to the dim light, and closed them once again.

The back of her head was pounding, and as soon as her eyelids fluttered opened for a second time, letting her take in her surroundings, she immediately thought of three things:

_First_, why was she lying on an unfamiliar kitchen floor with a pounding headache.

_Two_, why was the sky so dark, when only a little while ago it was just near dusk.

And _third_, why was one of her shoes missing from her feet.

The young woman sat up, propping her elbows on the wooden floor for support. One of her shoes was lying haphazardly next to her cold left foot.

Hermione relinquished one of her arms and put it to the back of her head. A small sized bump could be felt under her hair. She patted the bump and winced. It hurt. A _hell_ of a lot.

As she looked at her one sock-covered foot, her eyes traced the dusty floor to a pair of varicose-vein legs, dangling from one of the aluminum kitchen chairs.

_What in God's name_- Hermione thought, as she glanced up at the owner of the legs.

…And then it hit her.

As if it were a slap in the face, everything came rushing back.

The teacup. The shelves in the kitchen. The newspaper clipping...

…And Helen Crawford sitting down at the kitchen table, smiling down at the young woman, her hands neatly folded in her lap.

'You were out for quite awhile, my dear,' the old woman spoke softly to the young girl on the floor.

'I would have lifted you up myself, but I can't really. I'm just a simple squib, that's all. Can't do a lick of magic!' she said, chuckling to herself, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the kitchen.

Hermione said nothing, still trying to comprehend the current situation.

She struggled for a bit, pulling herself up slowly from the floor below. With an utterly confused look upon her face, eyes darting from side to side, she slowly walked towards the kitchen table, stopping to slip her shoe back on her foot, and made her way to sit opposite of Helen Crawford, the scraping of her chair across the wooden floor making an echo in the room.

Hermione sat down carefully in her seat.

'Wh…What did…_Who_…' she stammered. The pain in the back of her head was getting to her.

The young witch sighed, put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. She began speaking quietly to herself.

'_Oh dear God, I hope I'm dreaming. I honestly hope when I wake up_-' but Hermione did not have a chance to finish her sentence.

'Well, it is about time you woke up dear. You were lying there for close to an hour, moaning about while on the floor! I was going to call for some extra help, but-'

And as Hermione sat and listened to the old woman ramble, she suddenly felt a warm fury paw touch the same hand that was holding her hand.

Hermione opened her eyes to peak through her fingers.

A fluffy orange feline had pawed her hand, obviously demanding her attention.

'I do believe someone wants to speak with you,' said Miss Crawford, a smile behind her eyes.

Hermione removed her hand and squinted to get a better look at the animal sitting on the table right in front of her.

The markings, the color, the shape…_no, it couldn't be. It just couldn't be_….

'Miss…Miss Crawford, is this…_is it_…' Hermione asked the older woman.

The elderly woman said nothing.

Hermione swallowed.

'_Crookshanks_?' she asked in a timid voice, her head cocked to one side.

The cat answered with a deep _'Meow_.'

At the sound of his meow, Hermione's eyes welled with tears.

After all this time, Crookshanks was alive! And _apparently _well-fed. And was, on this very evening, finally reunited with his owner that had been long lost.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she suddenly grabbed the cat in her arms, nuzzling her face in his fur.

'Oh, it even _smells _like you!' she said to no one in particular, as she sobbed quietly into his orange fur.

After a few seconds, the animal let out a small '_squeal_,' a sign that Hermione had been holding the feline too tightly against her chest.

Hermione sniffled.

'Oh, I'm _sorry _Crooks. Here – I'll set you down,' she said, as she placed the cat on the floor beside her.

Hermione wiped her hands across her tear-stricken cheeks. Sniffing a bit, she took out a tissue from one of her pockets and dabbed her nose.

'How…_how long have you kept him here_?' she asked the woman sitting across from her.

Helen Crawford smiled.

'Ever since that night, Hermione. Ever since you left, he has been in my care. Minerva McGonagle thought it best to keep him close to Headquarters, in case…well, in case _you_ would ever decide to return. But that old bat, old Severus Snape told her that you _wouldn't_ come back – that you were too headstrong, and stubborn, and-'

Hermione swallowed.

'I'm sorry…_what_? They…they knew about…_wait a second_,' she stammered, the wheels turning in her head.

And then it clicked.

Hermione's eyes changed from soft, warm ones, to ones of an oncoming fury.

'You mean, this was all a set-up!? You mean to tell me that this – _all_ of this was just a hoax? Who…who are you?! Who the _hell _do you think you are, tricking me into coming here tonight?!' she yelled at the elderly woman, as she rose out of her seat, fists shaking slightly at her side.

'Oh I don't believe this! I honestly do _not_ believe this! I…I am _most _certain you will find another bloody physician, Miss Crawford,' she boldly stated, staring down at the elderly woman.

'Come on, Crookshanks. We're going home!' she ordered the cat sitting by her legs.

The orange feline, quite comprehending the current situation, bolted from the kitchen into the living room.

'_Oh Christ_,' Hermione said out loud.

She stomped from the kitchen, through the door, into the living room. Scanning the room with her eyes, she was heartbroken to see that the cat was nowhere in site.

'Fine! Well _fine_ then! You can just _stay_ here! _Bloody cat_!' she yelled at no one in particular, her voice echoing within the parlor.

Hermione quickly grabbed her tattered-looking bag from the floor next to one of the chairs, and hurried towards the front door. Without even taking a second glance back at Helen Crawford, Hermione stormed through the front door, and shut it behind her with a resonating 'BANG.'

Fighting back tears and sobs, she walked swiftly towards her car, placing the back of one of her hands over her mouth to stifle her cries.

She opened the car door with a shaky hand, threw in her belongings into the front seat, started the engine and took off within an instant.

She was furious. Insanely furious. But most of all, she felt betrayed. Betrayed in the _worse_ way.

_How dare they follow me?! How dare they send this sweet woman to follow me, to keep tabs on me!_ Hermione blinked as she drove, batting her eyelashes furiously as tears streamed down her warm face, her mind racing.

Hermione drove for miles, not even bothering to stop by her home. She wanted to go someplace where she could calm herself; somewhere she could be at peace. And as Hermione drove on the empty two-lane road, she stopped her vehicle midway on a familiar bridge that was located on the outskirts of her town.

When Ronald Weasley passed away, Hermione would drive to this desolate part of town and stand by the bridge, peering down at the deep waters below. The water soothed her, calmed her. It did in fact bring her peace.

And as Hermione shut off the car engine, stepping out into the cold fall evening, she shut her car door with a _thud_ and made her way towards the railing overlooking the water.

She thought of her parents. Of Ron.

Her chest heaved.

Her heart ached.

Her mind raced.

She felt nothing but hurt and anger, and a longing to escape all that surrounded her.

The young woman put both hands on the rusty railing, and peered over to look at the river below, silently hoping for a few minutes that the unreliable and awfully un-sturdy railing would give way.

…And then all of a sudden, the young woman heard two distinct _'pops'_ in back of her.

It had been ages upon ages since hearing that particular sound, but Hermione knew exactly what the sound meant.

…And she was _terrified_.

She turned around slowly, eyes wide at what she saw across the road from her, her heart racing, her breath caught in her chest at the site in front of her.

A young man with piercing green eyes and crooked spectacles looked sadly at the distraught woman. While still staring at her, he frowned and spoke to the figure next to him.

'See – I _told _you she wasn't going to fall in,' he said quietly yet matter-of-factly.

The taller figure next to him, clad in all black, snorted. He too kept his eyes on the woman in front of him.

'_Fall_, Potter? Of course she didn't fall, you dimwitted fool- Miss Granger intended to _jump_…' he said with a smirk in the most deadly of voices.


	5. Chapter 5

A soft wind blew this very evening, making the water under the bridge ripple ever so slightly. A few stray leaves scattered alongside the desolate road; a road that had _definitely_ seen better days.

The world was still and silent. Silent except for the few ragged breaths of a frightened woman standing on one side of the road, opposite two other figures. A woman who was, quite truthfully, having one of the strangest and (up to this point) one of the more emotionally taxing days of her young life.

…A woman who now stood silently.

…Absolutely afraid.

…Absolutely terrified.

Several seconds passed when not a word was spoken between both parties standing opposite each other, facing one another.

Somehow, _someway_, Hermione Granger found her voice and was able to whisper only two words in response to the scene she saw in front of her:

..._'Oh no_…'

Hermione spoke out loud to herself, staring in disbelief at the two men who stood on the opposite side of the empty road.

Her stomach dropped to her knees at the site of two very familiar faces. Faces that she had once remembered. Faces that she wished she had forgotten.

…It was the younger of the two who spoke first.

'Hermione,' he began softly, '-we…we just need to _talk_ to you…just for a second_…please don't run away…_' pleaded the younger man, the wind rustling his hair ever so slightly, revealing his lightning shaped scar above his eyebrow.

…Harry Potter took one step towards the young woman.

…Hermione subconsciously took one step back.

'NO!' she exclaimed abruptly, putting one hand in front of her, suddenly feeling extremely defensive and on the brink of an on-coming mental breakdown.

'Don't…_don't come any farther_!' she yelled across the road, her eyes wide and wild with fear.

The man in black rolled his eyes.

'This is pointless…_absolutely_ pointless' he spoke to the young boy, looking at him with disgust. '…Minerva must have been completely out of _her_ mind to suggest that-'

'No, wait…_give her some time_,' the younger man interjected quietly, still looking at the young woman.

Hermione's eyes darted between the two men.

'Please…just _please_ leave me alone…I…I just can't, _OK_? Whatever it is that you want, I…I_ just_…' she stammered, hands in front of her, protecting her form.

The man in black scowled and looked at Hermione.

'Miss Granger-' Severus Snape began, addressing the young woman.

'-It's _Doctor _Granger to_ you_,' she said in a deadly tone, her eyes narrowing at the towering man.

Severus rolled his eyes and snorted for the second time that evening, obviously annoyed with the current situation. Clearly, the girl was still just as stubborn and headstrong after all these years.

…The man in black turned to look at Harry, addressing him.

'Potter,' he began, '-you are a _fool _to not recognize that our unwelcomed intervention is quite obviously _useless_ on several degrees…'

He paused to look at Hermione.

'-I _do_ believe Miss Granger here wants us to leave her alone. And she will soon find herself _quite _alone, rest assured, once she takes a _graceful _swan dive into the frigid water below,' he said with a smirk.

Harry glowered at Severus.

'You know…you're _not _helping…Quit being such a _git_, and at least _try _to help,' Harry growled through clenched teeth.

Severus' eyes narrowed, obviously displeased at the younger man's tone. A small yet distinct voice could be heard across the road. Two sets of eyes locked on the figure across the way.

'I…I wasn't_ going_ to jump you know…' Hermione shouted, defending herself from across the desolate road, her voice echoing in the night.

'_Oh really_,' drawled Severus. 'Then pray tell, Miss Granger: what _exactly_ were you doing hanging half over that railing behind you?' he drawled, gesturing towards the railing with a free hand.

'Trying to catch some dinner, _perhaps_?' he said with a sneer.

'With all due respect, _Doctor Granger_, – I thought the salaries they offered you _young physicians_ would be _much_ better considering-'

Hermione's face turned beet red, her brow creasing in the moonlight.

'I _wasn't _fishing, you…_you_…' Hermione stuttered.

She closed her eyes, shook her head, and suddenly turned towards the river, her back to the men across the way.

'_Oh forget it,_' she said in a huff, now staring at the tiny ripples in the water, her eyes stinging with tears.

She swallowed hard, hands gripping the rusty metal.

'Just let me be. _Please_,' she pleaded with the men across the road; her back still turned away from them.

At the sound of utmost defeat in her voice, Harry's eyes saddened, and he sighed.

'Please hear us out, 'Mione… _It's for your own good, you know…_,' he said, frustrated at his multiple failed attempts at trying to speak to her.

The young woman whipped around in an instant, her eyes wide with surprise at his snide comment, a wild grin on her face.

'_My own good?_ What the _fuck_ do you know about my own good?! What's _good_ for me? Well what was good for me all these years was complete solitude! To be left alone! And now, you've gone and _wrecked _it now, haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU!?' she yelled at Harry, her voice cracking slightly.

Hermione stifled a sob with the back of her hand. Tears began to streak her cheeks, and she sniffled once or twice. Looking down, she moved her hand away from her face towards her chest and held it there.

Her chest hurt.

…It ached to breathe.

She was embarrassed at her loss of control, but she just couldn't help it. She was in too much physical and emotional pain.

…Harry took yet another step towards Hermione.

'Mione, are…_are you alright_?' he asked softly, obviously concerned for the young woman, and a bit remorseful regarding the abruptness of his last statement.

'No, I'm _bloody not _alright!' she shouted, her patience weaning. 'You…you both haven't _any_ idea what-'

…But Hermione didn't have time to complete her thought.

…For out of the corner of her eye, she noticed, that a silvery wisp was making its way down the deserted road. At first, she squinted her eyes to try to distinguish what exactly was clearly headed in her direction, but at second glance, her body froze at the site that stopped directly in front of her.

…Hermione's eyes widened, her mouth forming a silent 'O.'

The silvery object, which was clearly in the form of a large frog, paused in the middle of the road before opening its mouth and speaking.

'Get her out of there now…_before it's too late_,' it bellowed.

…The frog lept into the night sky, leaving absolutely no trail behind.

Two sets of eyes, one green and one black, looked at the disappearing frog, and then focused on the woman in front of them.

Hermione stared back at the two men. All of a sudden, as if registering what had just occurred, she started shaking her head violently.

'No!' she commanded, '-_absolutely_ not! Just leave me the hell ALONE!' she yelled across the road once again.

Hermione turned and began stomping back towards her vehicle.

Severus Snape rolled his eyes. Scowling, he spoke to the young woman.

'Miss Granger - I would not do that if I were you…' he said in a mocking form of tone.

Hermione stopped in her tracks. She angrily pointed a finger at the man in black and whispered in the most deadliest of tones, her eyes wild.

'_I'm. Leaving_.'

And just then, as if providing a rebuttal to her most recent statement, another silvery wisp shot down the road, scooted past the trio a few yards, and halted suddenly, returning quickly to pause by Hermione's car.

The silvery-white hare opened its mouth, and a woman's voice spoke to those gathered.

…Her words sent a chill down Hermione's spine.

'_They're coming. They've found her. Do whatever it takes to make her safe_,' the voice dreamily spoke to the three figures.

…And just as soon as it came, the hare leapt back down the road and out of site, disappearing into the chilly night.

Hermione turned, following the animal as it retreated, her eyes blinking a few times. She scrunched up her brow at the site of the hare as it faded into the evening sky, her mind racing at the voice of the hare.

'…_Luna?_' she whispered, the confusion unmistakable in her voice.

…And all of a sudden, without a single word or protest, without giving the young woman any time to resist, Hermione instantly felt two pairs of strong arms take hold of her, whisking her away into complete and utter darkness, disappearing into the night much like the two patronuses before her.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione Granger felt her legs making contact with some type of hard surface, a floor perhaps, her feet providing a dull 'thud' upon what laid underneath her. She felt the rest of her body thrown onto the hard surface, leaving the poor woman with the wind knocked out of her. She lay there for a moment on her back, slightly struggling for breath, trying to comprehend the millions of thoughts running through her tired mind.

…And for the second time that evening, Hermione found herself lying on the floor with a splitting headache…and a bit, just the _slightest _bit disoriented…

…But this time, her surroundings were much, _much_ more familiar to her…

The young woman sat up abruptly, gathering all her strength that she had possible at the time being. She propped herself up on both hands, and gradually made her way into a standing position. She was a bit wobbly for the first few seconds, but quickly regained her stance.

While standing, Hermione began to massage her head, specifically the same spot where the small goose-egg had developed when she hit her head at Miss Crawford's home. The room was dim, quite dim, but yet familiar. She could make out objects in the darkness: a white vase on a side table, a bookcase to the right of her stationed on the wall, and a small mirror on the wall, which Hermione could only make out the silver frame that stood around it.

Wincing a bit at the tenderness of the spot on her head, she spoke quietly to herself:

'How…how the _hell_ did I get home?' she wondered out loud, a bit annoyed regarding her current state.

'You really _are _that daft, aren't you Miss Granger,' drawled a sneer voice from behind her.

Hermione gasped. She waved her hands frantically, struggling to see in the dark house. She took a few hurried steps in a forward direction, opposite the voice. Her hand found a wall, its fingers tracing the intricate wallpaper. She quickly found the light switch and flipped it on as fast as humanly possible. In an instant, Hermione whipped around, her back to the wall. A lump formed in her throat, and she stared at the site in front of her.

There, across from her coffee table, stood the same two men that found her by the river. The same men that tried to speak with her, to reason with her. And apparently the two men who, without Hermione's consent, whisked her way in an instant to her humble abode.

Hermione's eyes widened with fear, her breathing growing more rapid.

'How did you…how did you know to come…_here_?' she asked panic-stricken.

Harry shifted a little bit, but continued a firm stance. He placed his hands in his pockets, and spoke.

'We…we knew where you were, Mione. Where you were living. Please don't get upset. _Not yet, at least_. They've…_we've _been watching you…making sure…making sure that you were _safe_,' he said quietly, looking at his navy blue sneakers.

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

'But the voice…the voices by the river…they…they said that someone…someone knew I was there…that they were looking for _me_…' she stammered, obviously confused and a bit frustrated at the lack of information that they two men were providing.

Severus Snape took a moment to regard the fingernails on his left hand.

'Well, apparently you _aren't_ as foolish as I had thought, Miss Granger. It appears you are quite capable to comprehend at least s_omething _this evening,' Severus sneered.

Hermione's cheeks flushed. Her lips formed a tight line, her brow forming an angry crease.

'Well, are you…is _someone_ going to tell me what the hell is going on?!...And you-' she said, looking at Harry's piercing green eyes, pointing at him with an angry finger'-why the fuck have _you _been following me?!' she demanded, becoming angrier and more frustrated by the minute, her index finger shaking slightly.

Severus Snape looked at her, his eyes narrowed at the site of the young woman, and spoke quietly.

'…_Are you ready to listen_?'

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. As if on cue, a shooting pain stabbed through the back of her skull and she winced, placing her outstretched hand on the back of her head.

'_Bloody hell,_' she murmured to herself, '-I…I need to get something for my head…just…_stay there_,' Hermione said dryly, as she walked quietly into her kitchen, giving both men a disproving look as she passed by them.

…_As if they were going to leave, _she thought to herself with a scowl.

The young woman strode into her tiny kitchen, flicking a light on with a soft 'click,' opening one of the brown cupboard doors, and taking out an impeccably clean glass. Walking over to her sink, she turned on the tap and immediately filled her glass half full. While standing at the sink, she reached on her toes to open the top cupboard on her left hand side, her fingers searching blindly for a bottle of aspirin. Hermione took hold of the bottle, brought it down to eye level, opened the container with a 'pop,' and retrieved the appropriate amount of contents that she believed would safely aid her current pain.

Taking the two pills in her hand, she placed them with force into her mouth, and gulped down the glass of tepid water.

The water was slightly cool, refreshing. Hermione smacked her lips, and decided upon another glass. She hadn't realized how dry her mouth had become that evening.

With a full glass of water in her hand, Hermione strode to a tiny window, and pulled back one of the curtains to take a curious glance at the outside world.

…_Her breath caught in her chest._

She squinted, trying to determine what she saw outside. And as soon as she recognized the figures, determined what and who they were, the adrenaline quickly pumped through her veins, and she froze on the spot.

Hermione didn't notice the glass slipping out of her grasp as she stared frozen eyed at the hooded persons clad all in black who stood silently outside of her home.

The glass shattered on the floor below, slivers dancing upon the wooden floor.

Within an instant, the two men inside her home appeared in her kitchen.

Hermione felt a warm hand on her shoulder, but she dare not move.

Harry peeked around her shoulder to place his gaze on what Hermione was staring at. He frowned, and turned her away from the window, closing the curtains behind her, the pair crunching on shards of glass as they moved closer to the sink.

Hermione began to panic. And for good reason too. The last time she had seen a Death-Eater was close to eight years ago. And it apparently had done enough damage to turn the young woman away from the wizarding world altogether, placing her instead into a created world of misery and solitude.

'What…what are _they_ doing here?!' she stammered, the fright unmistakable in her voice, her mouth growing dry once again.

Harry looked at Severus, and then focused on Hermione.

'They found you, Mione…s_omehow_,' he said quietly. 'We…we had placed charms, spells on you to make you safe. All those years ago. And somehow…they wore off…or someone had leaked to them where you were…we're not entirely sure what happened, but they know, Mione…_they know…_'

Hermione's eyes darted between the two men. The fact, the mere fact that they had _spied_ on her, watched her, even placed _spells_ on her currently outweighed the fact that there were currently three death eaters standing in front of her home waiting for her to emerge.

Hermione gritted her teeth.

'Well, why now?! What does it matter?! What the _hell_ do they want with _me_?! I am n_othing_ to them! They got what they wanted, all those years ago! Isn't that _enough _for them?!' she cried, her voice echoing throughout the kitchen.

Severus scowled.

'But Miss Granger – I do believe that is _exactly_ their point. Their plan was quite unsuccessful, and they had indeed failed to, as you put it, _get what they wanted_…' he said in a deadly tone, a disproving look upon his sallow face.

Hermione snorted.

'Well?! Why the hell now?! After all these years, what the hell could_ they_ possibly want with _me_?!' she demanded, her hands forming fists at her sides, shaking slightly.

Harry looked sadly at the young woman.

'Because…because he never finished what he started. So you-know-who claims. We have…information that you… _you_ were supposed to die with…with your parents in the fire…that if…if you and…and Ron were both gone, that would leave me unprotected, so the new prophecy said…and…' Harry stammered, looking at his feet below.

Hermione's eyes welled with tears. She was silent for a few moments before speaking.

'You should have left me by the river. You should have never brought me here,' she boldly stated, shaking her head in disgust and closing her eyes.

Harry looked at her; saw the pain and anguish that flooded her face.

'No, we couldn't leave you there…_I couldn't leave you there_,' Harry said softly.

Hermione blinked and slowly backed up to the sink.

'Well, you should have,' she said, her voice soaked with defeat. '-I don't care about any fucking prophecies, I don't care about _who _wants _what_ now…I just…just let me be, please…_I'm begging you_…' she said, the tears beginning to spill down her flushed cheeks.

…And for the first time that evening, Severus Snape looked at Hermione Granger, and felt a pang of sadness for the young woman. He saw the anguish in her eyes, although she avoided his eyes so far this evening at all costs. He could see it in her face, in her actions, and mostly and more completely, in her voice:

…_She was giving up._

…_She had lost hope._

Severus Snape sighed.

If the plan was going to work, if she decided upon sacrificing her own life for mere selfishness, if she was going to _not_ cooperate, then all of their work will have been for naught. All that they have been working for. All that they themselves had sacrificed. For the boy. And now for her.

Hermione walked over to one of the chairs at her kitchen table, and dabbed her nose with her sleeve.

'Do you…do any of you know how _hard_ this is…to think, just for a moment to be in _my _shoes,' Hermione whispered, her head in her hands, eyes shut, tears running down her face.

'I mean…I don't…I _can't _do magic. I can't fight. I can't…I don't even have a fucking _wand _anymore for Christ sake,' she said in an irritated tone, her head still in her hands, staring at the flowered tablecloth below.

'…And that is where you are wrong Miss Granger,' Severus simply stated, as he took one step forward.

He reached into his cloak, and retrieved two beautiful pieces of wood, two pieces that fit perfectly together, and placed them on the table right in front of the young woman.

Hermione blinked through the blinding tears. She couldn't believe her eyes.

She didn't want to believe what she saw, but seeing the object right in front of her – she knew what it was. Who it belonged to…

…_It was her wand_.

Hermione's eyes welled. Still staring at the object, she spoke softly:

'How…where did you find it…I threw it…I threw it into the fire,' she stared at the pieces in disbelief, shaking her head, hardly acknowledging that her wand had come back to its owner.

Severus smirked.

'And here I came to believe that my brightest student knew all there is to know about magic…' he drawled. 'Miss Granger, surely you would know that a wand such as yours could _not_ be destroyed by fire….'

Hermione blinked.

'Oh…I guess…' she stammered. She took a second glance at the two pieces of wood, and for the first time that evening, looked straight into the eyes of Severus Snape.

'I don't want it. Take it back. Can't you see, I have no use for it,' she said, a hardened expression upon her face.

With her dark brown eyes staring into his, she allowed him silent permission to see exactly why she did not want her wand back.

Images flashed in his mind.

The day she married Ronald Weasley. The day she saw Ron die in front of her, holding his lifeless body in her arms. The night her parents died. The image of her throwing her wand in the fire. Her dismal look upon graduating Medical school, not a family member in sight in the crowd. Sitting by the fire in her living room after work, sobbing, holding a wedding photograph in her hands. Standing over the bridge years ago, willing herself to fall in.

Severus abruptly pulled himself away from her thoughts.

Seeing her images, seeing her actions, her behaviors. It surprised him. It bothered him. And for a moment, just the s_lightest_ moment, he felt pity for the poor woman sitting in front of him. Not a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Hermione swallowed, and while still continuing to stare at her old Potions Master, stated in a thick voice:

'…_Now do you understand'?_

Severus inhaled and exhaled deeply, offering her no reply in return.

Hermione got up from the kitchen table, and walked through the doorway towards the living room.

Harry followed close behind her.

'Mione, where are you going?' he said, walking swiftly behind her, his voice harboring a twinge of concern.

'Outside. I need air,' she said matter-of-factly without hesitation, pausing only to pick up a light jacket lying haphazardly on the sofa.

Hermione approached the door and grabbed the handle…

…_It didn't budge_.

'_What the_…' Hermione said to herself. Jiggling the handle in frustration, with her back to the two men, she yelled in disgust:

'Open the bloody door, you _morons_!'

…And it was Harry who spoke, quietly yet confidently, to the back of the young woman who was trying frantically to exit out of her house:

'You're not leaving Mione. You can't…. _And you won't_…'


	7. Chapter 7

It is one thing to be trapped in an unfamiliar place. To not know where to run, to be unaware of your boundaries. To feel as though there is no way out, no matter where you turn.

…It is _another _thing to be trapped in one's own home no less…

…And that was precisely how Hermione Granger found herself on this very evening.

…Trapped.

The young woman frantically tried opening the door, jiggling the brass door knob with all her might, pulling and pushing the wooden door so hard, she thought the frame would surely give way.

…But alas, magic is strong. And the door did not budge. Not even a _single_ inch…

Hermione was furious. She typically kept her temper, lived a mostly non-emotional life all these years, and seldom raised her voice towards anyone or anything. After all, why should she? What _use _could it possibly provide? However, currently circumstances proved otherwise. And she could feel the anger pulsating through her veins.

'Let me out! NOW!' she bellowed, kicking the door with all her strength, leaving black marks where her shoe made contact with the wooden door.

Harry gave the irate woman a disproving look.

'Mione, just please calm down. Please. Just _stop _for a second, and hear us out,' he yelled, trying to talk over the kicking and pounding echoing throughout the living room.

Hermione quickly turned away from the door. She looked at Harry, stared him straight in the eye, and with anguish and disgust written all over her face, she cried out to him:

'_Why are you doing this_?!'

Her voice cracked when she spoke. Tears silently spilled down her cheeks as her cheeks flushed with the anger and hate that boiled throughout her frame.

And it was at that precise moment that Harry truly realized what his appearance this evening was doing to his long lost friend. The friend he trusted. The friend he loved.

…_It was killing her…_

Harry inhaled and exhaled deeply.

'Mione,' he began softly, '-I can't let you leave. Not yet. Just please…_please_ sit down for a minute,' Harry pleaded, staring at the pained honey-colored eyes of the woman in front of him.

Hermione said nothing. She stood with her back against the door for a few moments, weighing her options. Without giving her body permission to move, she felt her legs coax themselves towards the sofa, all the while, keeping her hardened gaze on Harry. She obliged willingly, and sat slowly on the green couch, opposite the two men standing in front of her on either side of her fireplace.

Her mouth formed a tight line, and she uttered one word and one word only:

'_Speak_.'

Harry looked at Hermione. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and decided upon sitting in an off-white overstuffed chair, adjacent to the fireplace.

'Mione,' he spoke quietly, '-it was no accident that Helen Crawford found you. She is a squib. An old friend of…of Dumbledore's…' he said, staring at his folded hands.

'We…the Order still exists. We had to find you. To help you. If the plan this evening…if Mrs. Crawford…if _our _plan had failed, and you walked out of her house unprotected, they were going to find you, Mione. They…they were going to kill you…'

Hermione snorted.

'And what would it have mattered?! No one had _bothered _to see me or contact me all these years? No one had _bothered_ to see if I was all right when I bloody well wasn't! I mean, even…even if I _chose_ what I have become, no one…no one even _bothered_ to care, did they?!' Hermione stated angrily, her hands forming tight fists at her side.

'-I don't care why you're here! I don't care about any new prophecies, or what you had mentioned earlier! I've lost _too_ much to care! _I've been alone too long to care_…' she said hastily, staring into her lap, her arms now crossed defensively in front of her.

Severus Snape continued to look at the young woman.

'Alone? Miss Granger, you were _hardly_ alone I daresay…' he drawled, secretly pleased at Hermione's arrogance that was about to be disproved entirely.

'As you may have already forgotten, a watch had been placed upon you. You were guarded. At all times, throughout these years. Someone, whether they had wanted to or not, always had regard for your safety; for your life.' Severus paused to look down at the carpet below.

Hermione gave a sarcastic chuckle.

'At all times, eh? What about my graduation from medical school? Who was there…who _cared_ that I received top marks and top honors from the University? Who was the only person there who had neither friend _nor_ family member in the audience?! Would you like to expand on that one,_ Professor_?' she asked in a mocking tone, her face flushing with frustration.

Severus looked up from the floor. His brow creased, and he stared directly at the young woman. In a barely audible tone, he spoke sternly to her.

'You are wrong, Miss Granger…_Vey_ wrong...' he said icily.

'Indeed, _I _waspresent amongst many that day. Would you care for me to elaborate? Would you like me to tell you the young woman's name that tripped upon the stage that day? Or perhaps, would you instead like me to tell you how I watched you fidget relentlessly in your seat when your name was read when announcing the highest academic marks in the class?' he said quietly, continuing to stare at Hermione, his eyes fixated on the young woman as he spoke.

Hermione's eyes welled with tears, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She continued to stare at her lap, and placed her hands on her thighs. She was in disbelief regarding what she had just heard. What she had just witnessed.

In a sense, she _didn't _believe what he had just told her. Or perhaps, she didn't _want _to believe it.

It was quite true that Severus Snape was at Hermione's graduation. Nymphadora Tonks and Harry Potter were scheduled to be at Hermione's graduation ceremony, and truth be told, they both _very _much wanted to go. But somehow, someway, their plans were thwarted, and Severus Snape offered to go to Hermione's ceremony in their place…

…_For in actuality, he had planned to go all along…_

He wanted to watch his brightest student receive the accolades that were so rightfully hers. He felt pride when her name was called, and a twinge of sadness when he saw her receive her degree with an emotionless face.

He had chosen to be there.

It was true that, as a student, she annoyed him to no end, and at many times he had wished she would keep her know-it-all attitude and displays to herself. But while watching her on the stage, watching her solemn reaction as her classmates congratulated her after the ceremony, Severus was secretly pleased that she had done so well despite her current circumstances. Pleased that she was still, after all these years, considered '_one of their own_,' although she would now of course deny it at all costs.

Hermione took one of her sleeves and dabbed her moistened eyes.

'I don't….you…_you were there_?' she asked, her voice cracking as she looked up at her old Potions Professor.

Severus looked at Hermione.

'Do you refuse to believe me?' he asked, eyebrows raised, slightly annoyed at her question.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head slowly.

'I don't know who…or _what_ to believe anymore…all of this…everything that happened tonight…I just can't imagine that I would ever see you-' she said, nodding in Harry's direction, '-or _you_ ever again…' she stated, looking at Severus.

Harry smiled sadly, looking at Hermione.

'Well, Mione…believe it. We're here. It's…it's r_eally _us,' he chuckled slightly.

Hermione didn't smile.

'Well…what…what do you want me to do…I suppose…I mean it's _obvious_ that you two are never going to leave if I don't cooperate,' she said in an exasperated tone with a look of disproval.

Severus Snape rolled his eyes.

'So,' Hermione continued, '-in that case, what _do _you want from me? What could you possibly want from me when I have _nothing_ to offer?' she asked with defeat, her shoulders shrugging at the voice of her own request.

As if on cue, Hermione's silver clock upon the mantle struck ten o-clock.

Severus and Harry looked at one another.

'Mione, what we need from you is to stay put,' Harry said matter-of-factly. 'Don't leave…don't go out…just please, _please_ stay here, OK' he pleaded with her.

Hermione smirked.

'Stay here? Don't show up for work when I haven't missed a day since I started? Oh _sure,_ perfect. I'm sure _no_ _one _would bloody well ask where I'm at…' she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

'We have a plan…' said Harry definitively. 'Don't worry, Mione – we'll take care of it,' he said in a re-assuring tone.

Hermione rose to stand in front of the sofa.

'Well, I hope you're right,' she sighed, looking at young man standing opposite her.

Harry looked at Severus, and then at the clock upon the mantle. Looking at Severus once again, he spoke to the older man.

'You can go. I'll catch up,' he said matter-of-factly, looking up at Severus.

The older man scowled and disappeared from her living room with a '_pop_,' without another word.

Harry let a few seconds of silence pass before speaking to Hermione.

'I don't want to be a bit cheesy, but…but it really _is_ good to see you Mione…I mean to talk to you in person,' he said sheepishly.

'I really missed you. _A lot_,' he said quietly, looking into her brown eyes.

Hermione smiled sadly.

'I'm sorry, Harry…I…I just…I don't know what to make of everything…' her voice trailed off as she placed her gaze on the carpet below.

'I know, but…but you have to trust us. Just _please,_ trust us?' he said, pleading with her.

Hermione frowned.

'I'll try,' she said quietly, staring at the area rug below her feet. 'I can't promise anything…I've had too many promises broken already, have trusted too many people…but I'll try. That's the only thing I can offer,' she said softly.

Harry swallowed. He took a few cautious steps towards the young woman, stood directly in front of her, extended an arm, and opened his hand. She took a few moments, regarding his hand, before extending her hand much in the same manner. He took her hand in his grasp, holding onto her tightly, though she refused to match his strength.

Harry smiled sadly.

'You know, Mione – you aren't the only one who has lost loved ones,' he whispered, looking at the floor.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes.

Harry pulled away from her, released her hand, and took a step back.

'Don't leave,' he warned again, pointing an index finger at her.

'Don't worry,' she said, '-with all of the spells and charms that you people have put on this place, it's a wonder that my arse isn't glued to that chair,' she said jokingly, motioning towards the overstuffed white chair that Harry was sitting in.

Harry laughed.

'I'll be back soon,' he promised. And as soon as he uttered his statement, he took one last look at the young woman in front of him, and was gone with a small 'pop.'

…Meanwhile, a lone Death-Eater stood outside of Hermione's house waiting quietly in the darkness. He sneered at the shadows inside, and smirked to himself.

'So…she's _actually_ cooperating…._this_ should get interesting,' he sneered. The wind picked up outside, and the young man took a moment to wipe a silvery-blond hair from his eyes.

All of a sudden, his arm began to burn, to throb. He pulled up his sleeve to watch the Dark Mark write upon his sallow skin, the hideous drawing that tainted his flesh.

…The single Death Eater who now stood alone watching the house – the very same Death Eater in fact who killed Hermione's parents and who murdered her husband, grinned wickedly and chuckled to himself with pleasure as he watched his forearm.

…And without another word, Draco Malfoy withdrew his mask from the inside of his cloak, and disappeared into the cool, star-filled night with a small 'pop,' leaving absolutely no trace behind.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione took a few moments to regard the silence that surrounded her. For the first time that evening, she was alone. Completely alone. Her home was quiet and still, a welcoming state unlike that of hours past. She was finally alone with her thoughts; finally alone to sort through all that had transpired this evening.

Hermione plopped herself back on the plush couch and stared aimlessly at the unlit fireplace in front of her, biting the inside of her cheek as she gazed on.

Being in the presence of Harry and her old Potions Professor tonight had brought back a flood of memories that she had once buried deep inside her soul. As she sat ever still, staring at the fireplace, her mind was swirling with old snapshots of her life that were thought once forgotten.

Hermione swallowed, her throat feeling tight and warm. She looked down at her hand and examined it.

Though she didn't squeeze back when Harry took hold of her hand, she had to admit that it felt nice to hold another human being's hand. To feel their genuine warmth. To feel as though they _wanted_ to hold her hand, that it actually _meant_ something, even in the slightest sense.

…_To actually feel wanted_…

Hermione sighed and dismissed the thought. She rose from the couch, and with a few quick steps entered into her tiny kitchen.

She stopped cold in her tracks as soon as she entered through the wooden door. For she had forgotten the pieces of wood that sat idle on her tiny kitchen table. The little object that waited patiently for her, yearning to be touched.

…_Her wand_….

Hermione felt her heart rate increase ever so slightly. She remembered, as clear as day, the last time she had held her wand. Felt its strong, unyielding power in her hands. Felt something in her entire body change when she snapped the pieces of wood into two on that fateful night, and hurled them into the burning fire that was once her home.

Hermione cautiously rounded the table, eyeing her old wand constantly, as she slowly sat down upon one of the chairs across from the pieces.

One part of her wanted to scoop up the broken pieces. To hold them, to feel them in her hands. To use her wand, and remember how _good_ it felt to have it in her grasp.

…The other part did not want to be _any_ where near the damned thing.

Hermione sat at the table. She sat for hours, staring blindly with a glazed look at the pieces of wood. She sat and stared until she eventually fell into a deep sleep upon her arms, exhausted from the evening's events. She dreamt of nothing as her head lay propped up upon her two extremities, forming a somewhat uncomfortable makeshift pillow for her.

…It was the sunlight that peaked through the semi-closed curtains that woke Hermione the next morning.

A slight sliver of sunshine shone directly upon the poor girl, and she cracked open one of her eyes, ever so slightly. She was immediately disoriented, and struggled to remember why on earth she was in the kitchen.

Hermione blinked a few times, her head still in her arms as she tried to focus on the wall to the side of her.

She yawned while picking up her head ever so slowly, staring at the yellow placemat upon which she had fallen asleep.

While still staring at the placemat, the young woman took a hand to the back of her neck and began to massage it gently. Her neck ached. The back of her head ached.

'_Good Lord_,' she muttered to herself, eyes still full of sleep, peering to look at the sunlight peeking in through the blue curtains'-_what the hell time is it_?' she said aloud.

She straightened her neck and picked up her head, closing her eyes and wincing at the pain she felt from both places. Her stomach growled, and she subconsciously placed a hand over her abdomen.

Hermione stretched in her seat, carefully rubbed her eyes, and then gazed across the table.

All of a sudden, her eyes widened, and she gasped. She stood up abruptly, knocking her chair to the ground, it landing on the wooden floor with a resounding 'thud.'

She had forgotten about her wand. Had forgotten about what had transpired the evening prior. Had forgotten that her world was changed upside down within a matter of hours.

…_And it scared the hell out of her_.

'_Jesus Christ_!' Hermione muttered, placing a hand over her heart, willing it to slow down as she tried to focus on her breathing. 'You stupid thing,' she said to the wand, '-scared the living daylights out of me…_bloody piece of wood_…' she said in an irritated tone.

Hermione backed away from the table, and made her way over to the sink, placing both hands on the counter, steadying herself. She bent over slightly, still trying to control her breathing.

The young woman ran a hand through her hair. She felt awful. Just _awful._ Like she had been run over by a bus…_twice._ She wondered what she must look like – how much of a mess her appearance must be. But then in the same thought, she didn't care. She wanted to hide. To forget. To climb under the covers, and pretend that yesterday never, _ever_ happened.

But alas, it did happen. Much to Hermione's dismay.

Her mouth formed a tight line, and she turned around to scowl at her wand. She turned and walked a few steps towards the refrigerator. Opening the door, she bent down to peek into the shelves that were in front of her.

Her refrigerator was almost empty. To be quite honest, it was a pitiful site to say the least. A small chunk of white cheddar cheese sat on one side, along with a half empty mustard jar. To the left, half a carton of eggs sat. On top of the carton, two withered carrots stood out like sore thumbs.

Hermione frowned.

On second thought, she wasn't _that_ hungry anymore…

She felt exhausted and disgusting. She desperately needed a shower, and upon further pondering, decided that standing in the warm spray would soothe her muscles…_and _hopefully her mind.

Hermione exited out of the kitchen and began walking up the steps in the living room, heading towards the second floor. She turned right and entered into her bedroom. It was an adequate size, most likely considered on the smaller size to most, but it suited her just nicely. She retrieved a fuzzy blue housecoat from the back of her door, reached for a set of plain off-white, slightly oversized pajamas, and headed off to the bathroom, located adjacent to her bedroom.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, Hermione stepped out of her clothes, took two bobby pins out of her hair, and turned on the shower. Testing the water, she waited until it was between hot and scalding, and she placed one foot at a time into the porcelain bathtub.

The water felt wonderful. Absolutely delightful. Hermione did not recall just how long she stood there with the hot water running over her. It must have been over twenty to thirty minutes by the time she realized that she was _still_ in the shower. Later glancing at her prune-stricken fingertips, she assessed that it was indeed time to get out of the shower before she shriveled up into nothingness.

Turning the water off and exiting out of the bathtub, she dried herself with a fluffy gray towel, and put on her pajamas. She opted not to put on her bathrobe just yet, and instead decided to hang it on the back of the bathroom door.

She reached into one of the drawers under her sink, and pulled out a small basket, retrieving a medium-sized hair clip. Taking her long brown-colored locks, she scooped up her hair into a neat little not, and secured the strands with the brown clip.

She took her right hand, wiped the steam off the center of the mirror in a circular motion, and looked at her reflection. 'Plain and ordinary,' she thought to herself. '_Perfect_…'

Hermione sighed. Taking one last look around the bathroom, she hung up her towel and headed down the hall, down the steps, and into the living room.

Suddenly, something had caught her eye. Something red. Something that she quite frankly did not see too often.

A light was blinking on her phone, signaling that Hermione had a message on her answering machine.

The young woman bit the inside of her cheek.

'_Brilliant_,' she said sarcastically, walking slowly towards the phone. She sat on the sofa, and angled the phone on the side table ever so slightly so she could get a better look at it.

'_3 new messages_,' she read aloud, squinting at the black telephone.

Hermione sighed. She knew that people would be asking where she was today. Why she was not at the hospital. '_Let's see what we have here_,' she thought to herself, as she raised an index finger and pushed the green button that read 'Play.'

The first message began:

_Beep._

'Hello Hermione, it's Marie Washington from Saint Lucy's. We heard that you had caught Glandular Fever. How _awful _dear, how awful indeed! Oh and I am so sorry to hear that your dog died as well. Terrible, really. You _must _be in an awful state. Why I didn't even _know_ you had a dog, dear! If you'd like me to come over, give a ring at the office. I make a _wonderful_ chicken soup, and-'

Hermione's finger clicked on the 'delete' button faster than one could say Quidditch.

The next message played:

_Beep._

'Hey Hermione, it's Harry. Hope all is well. We've been busy here. Have loads to tell you. Hope you're staying out of trouble, Mione! Well anyways, I'll be over later tonight to-'

Hermione clicked the 'delete' button.

The last and final message played.

_Beep._

'…Hermione Granger….you _filthy_ little Mud Blood know-it-all… so, they think you're safe now Mudblood…for _now_ at least, while you're still _alive_…Just wait…just _wait _til I get to you…you'll be saying hi to Mum and Dad, and you're dear idiot of a husband soon enough…_til then_…' the evil voice on the other end sneered.

Hermione sat motionless. No breath escaped her lips. Her heart pounded and she felt as though it were going to fly through her chest at any moment.

The voice. The sinister laugh at the beginning of the message. It was…it _couldn't _be…but yet, it was. He had found her. He knew where she was. And he was going to kill her.

Draco Malfoy, most certainly left the third and final message on Hermione's answering machine. How he found her, she was not certain. All she knew was that most likely her life was now on the line. And from the sound of the message, he seemed quite eager to finish her off.

Hermione slammed down the 'delete' button on the answering machine with her entire palm. She swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling her mouth grow cotton dry.

_Should she tell Harry? Does he already know that Malfoy is now after her? _

'_Well…I suppose he already knows_,' she thought to herself. '_After all - why would they bother intervening now_?'

Hermione frowned.

She got up off of the sofa, stood up for a few seconds, and then as if changing her mind, plopped back down on the piece of furniture. Perhaps it was the fault of the extremely hot shower mixed with mass exhaustion, but as soon as Hermione sat back down on the sofa, she curled up on her side and grabbed an oversized pillow. Her mind raced, thinking back to the final message. Her thinking and pondering, combined with a warm shower were the culprits that led Hermione to close her eyes and drift off to sleep for a few hours. Again, she dreamt of nothing.

Hours upon hours later, the young woman was brought out of her sleep up by a series of chimes. Struggling to open her eyelids, she peeked through one lash up at the clock on her mantle.

'Eight o'clock! Good Christ, are you_ kidding_ me?!' she uttered, her voice full of sleep as she picked up her head and sat up straight on the sofa.

Hermione reached around to scratch her head. Her clip had fallen out, most likely when she was napping, and she made a mental note to comb the cushions at a later time to look for her missing hair accessory.

The first thing Hermione noticed besides the current time, was that her stomach was growling horribly, almost chastising her for not eating anything substantial for the past twenty-four hours.

She rubbed her stomach subconsciously, wordlessly apologizing for herself that she should have known better and should have had something to eat. Hermione sat up off of the sofa, stretched another time, and still clad in her cream colored pajamas, strode bare-footed towards the kitchen.

Her feet made a soft pounding noise on top of the wooden floor of the kitchen. Hermione went over to one of her cupboards above the sink, opened the door, and retrieved a box of crackers from one of the shelves. After grabbing the box and setting it down on the counter, she took a single glass from along side the sink and filled it with water. Seeing an intact glass, it reminded her of the glass she had dropped yesterday evening when she looked outside through the kitchen window. She inched her neck slowly, taking a glance at the floor beneath the window.

There were no shards to be seen.

Hermione had gathered that one of the two men had most likely cleaned up the mess. And thinking of the glass, and the two men in her kitchen not twenty-four hours ago, it made her think of another object that was still sitting untouched on her kitchen table.

…Hermione slowly turned around to look at the table.

…_And there sat her wand._

Hermione sighed.

Taking the box of crackers and her glass of water, she made her way over to the kitchen table and sat down slowly, this time in front of her old wand.

Hermione opened the box of crackers, pulled one out, and slowly began to chew on it, never leaving her wand out of site.

She began to seriously weigh her options as she chewed on the cracker, thinking about what her wand felt like, remembering old spells cast with the small piece of wood.

Hermione swallowed, and reached for her glass of water.

Her wand meant everything to her so many years ago. It gave her meaning. It aided her in her every day life. It was her connection to a world that she once belonged to. And now, it sat still and broken, two incomplete pieces over a flowered table cloth.

In some respects, she felt as though it were begging for her to pick it up, to use it. On another hand, she felt as though it were there to mock her. To belittle her, as if to symbolize the broken promises she had been dealt, the broken friendships that she believed were beyond repair.

But alas, the young woman continued to stare at her wand.

Hermione sighed again and closed her eyes.

What if what they were saying were true? What if it was time for her to come back? To fight? To help them?

Hermione opened her eyes. She got up, and began to pace throughout her kitchen.

'_How in God's name am I supposed to help them_?' She thought to herself, running a hand through her long brown hair. '_I mean, honest to God – I don't…I don't even think I remember how_…' she continued, thoughts swarming in her mind.

And then Hermione stopped in her tracks.

A flood of memories hit her. Like a ton of bricks.

All of a sudden, she thought back years ago, to the day she held Ron's lifeless body in her hands. And she remembered words he uttered to her, the words that she always lived by to this very day:

'…_Don't let them win_…'

Hermione's eyes welled with tears. Her heart began to race as she thought back to that very day. Choking back a sob, she ran a hand through her hair once again.

'_Don't let them win_,' she said softly, as she continued to pace once again.

Hermione looked over at her wand. She wiped a stray tear with the back of her hand and sniffled.

'Well,' she said aloud, '-even if I'm not using it, at least…well maybe I could _try_ putting it back together…I mean if I _ever _decide on maybe using it in the future,' she muttered to herself.

Hermione walked slowly towards the table, and extended her hands towards her old wand.

With a careful hand, she picked up a piece of wood in each hand, and ever so slowly, placed the broken pieces next to one another in the form of a straight line.

But although the young woman had innocent intentions regarding the fixing of her wand for a later use, she had absolutely no clue, no _idea_ what would happen when she joined the pieces together…

While still holding the pieces together in a straight line, joined at the crack where it had been broken al those years ago, Hermione felt a rush of wind around her, taking her breath away.

A silvery-bluish light surrounded her, enveloped her. Her hair fluttered in the breeze.

Hermione felt warmth coming from the wand, as she stared with wide eyes as the wooden object fused itself together right in front of her eyes.

In a matter of moments, her wand had become whole once again.

And Hermione felt something that she had not genuinely felt in a very, very long time:

She felt…_happy.._.genuinely _happy_…like a piece gone missing was reunited with her, making her whole once again.

The light surrounding the girl disappeared, leaving Hermione with her intact wand in her one hand, her other hand on her chest, still in utter disbelief in regards to what she had just witnessed…what she had just experienced.

'_Dear God!_' she exclaimed to herself, studying the fragile piece of wood in her hands.

…All of a sudden, she heard a distinct pop in back of her.

'So…the _Mudblood _has found her magic…' a voice sneered from in back of her.

Hermione slowly turned around, and stared open mouthed at the figure that stood in front of her. The figure that gave her nightmares for years. The figure that she had never, _ever_ wanted to see for the rest of her life.

…_And apparently the figure that wanted her dead…_

Draco Malfoy stood in Hermione's kitchen, a sinister grin upon his hallowed face.

The young man gave a sinister laugh, and looked down upon the ground.

'You know, Mudblood…they _never _expected you to use your wand again…ironic that having your precious piece of wood in your hands leaves you…_unprotected_…' he whispered, looking up at her once again, his eyes narrowing.

With a brisk wave of his hand, he whisked his hand towards her, and she felt herself being thrown out of the kitchen into the living room. Her wand flew out of her hand almost instantly, as the poor woman's head made contact with the wall of the living room. The back of her head slammed into the mirror upon the wall, and as Hermione lay on her back upon the floor, she felt a warm trickling feeling coming from her head as the shards of glass continued to fall upon her. A large piece of the frame had fallen, slicing the skin upon her stomach ever so slightly, the blood from the wound begging to seep out and pool ever so slowly upon the wooden floor.

Draco laughed, slowly making his way into the parlor.

'Isn't the Mudblood going to _fight_?' he scoffed, nearing the poor woman lying half conscious on the floor.

'-or will she simply _bleed_ to death and join her pathetic husband six feet under? The choice is yours…' he added, a hideous grin upon his sallow skin.

Feeling a horrendous amount of pain and in too much shock to speak, Hermione couldn't happen to think that perhaps dying would be the ultimate alternative in this situation. And as she continued to ponder silently, the last thing she remembered was seeing, from across the way, her kitchen bursting into flames, and thinking the most gut wrenching thought that one could possibly surrender to themselves:

…_Tonight, she was going to die_….


	9. Chapter 9

The last thing Hermione Granger remembered that evening, was the thick and rancid smell of smoke beginning to seep into her lungs, making her gasp for air as she lie bleeding helplessly on her living room floor.

And now, as she lay semi-awake upon something soft and squishy, a sheet draped over her from the neck down, the scent of roses and other floral types permeated throughout the area, filling her nose with a most pleasant scent.

At once, Hermione thought the absolute obvious: she was in a funeral parlor. She had died in the fire. There must be various flowers and random cards strewn about the room, hopefully in a nice neat arrangement that wouldn't be too much trouble to clean up.

'_Lovely_,' she thought to herself, as she lay ever still with her eyes closed. '-_I do hope they put me in that gray pants suit that I purchased a few months ago. Mind you, it was bloody expensive, but the material felt so pleasing, and the tailoring was just_-'

But Hermione was interrupted by a man whispering from somewhere in the room; she couldn't pinpoint his exact location, but she was sure it came somewhere from the left.

'No Gladys – it's the poor boy in 323 bed A. Got blown up by a cauldron, dear. Parents are _absolutely_ bonkers, whisking him out of Hogwarts straight away for-'

Hermione's eyes shot open.

'_Hogwarts?!_' she thought to herself. Hermione's eyes darted back and forth, looking upon the slightly cracked off-white ceiling directly above her, severely doubting what she had just heard from the man.

'_What the_…' she said to herself, obviously confused and disoriented. After all, she had banked on being _quite_ dead at the moment.

Hermione decided that she would try to move. That would most surely debunk her current theory. Without difficulty, she carefully picked up one arm off of the bed.

She looked at her appendage, studying the foreign material upon it. Her one arm was bandaged from elbow to wrist. Meticulous wrapping; clean dry and intact. She took a moment to regard the good work before deciding to look at her other extremity.

Hermione raised her other arm.

There was a large bandage on her forearm. Closer to her elbow than her wrist. She stared at the piece of gauze taped to her arm, and then gazed more towards her shoulder.

Hermione grabbed the white sheet with both hands and peeked under the covers.

She was in a yellow hospital gown.

'_Oh dear God_…' she thought to herself. There was one place, and one place alone where she had seen yellow hospital gowns. And if there was talk of Hogwarts amongst the staff, that would surely mean that she could be in one hospital, and one hospital only:

…Hermione was a patient in Saint Mungos…

The young woman felt her heart rate increase. Hermione tried her best to shimmy herself up in bed, but upon moving, suddenly cried out in pain and at once, grabbed the back of her petite head. It too had a medium sized bandage covering it.

'Oh this is _so _not good…' Hermione thought aloud to herself. All of a sudden, she sniffed, and began to look around the room.

There had to be at least four or five huge flower arrangements in her room. They were all beautiful. Some more than others. There was one across the room that looked like it had daisies swaying slightly in the vase. On a chair by the window, sat a beautiful full pot of dark orange mums. And as Hermione turned her head to the right ever so slowly, on the table alongside the bed was a beautiful dark blue vase with yellow tulips.

Hermione smiled ever so slightly.

She loved tulips. Loved the way they were so crisp and fresh looking, and of course they smelled quite nice as well.

Upon closer inspection, Hermione saw that there was a small white envelope attached to the side of the vase. On the outside of the envelope stood the initials _H.G_ in a very formal-looking script. Assuming that the note was meant for her, Hermione reached for the note with her right hand, her left still holding her head as she winced from the pain ever so slightly.

Hermione carefully opened the envelope to reveal a single piece of parchment. It read the following:

_Though I admit it is fairly amusing to see the Doctor as Patient, I must warn you against leaving the hospital. Doing so would warrant the most dire consequences._

_P.S. It would behoove you not to speak to the daisies in the corner of the room._

_S.S._

Hermione held the note in her hand and frowned. She silently pondered its words before slipping the note ever so carefully into the sleeve of the envelope.

'_Don't leave_…' Hermione thought to herself. She snorted at the ambiguity of the note.

'What do they think…that I'm helpless? That…that I can't _survive_ on my own…_oh please_…' she thought to herself.

'_Well, I'll show them…'_ she said quietly out loud.

Hermione looked at the chair positioned next to her bed. On it, to her relief, was her fuzzy blue housecoat that she had from home. Not bothering to think how it got there, she was relieved to see that the clothing item had made its way to the hospital room completely intact.

Hermione swung both legs over the side of the bed, and propped herself up, dangling her legs off the side of the bed in the process. She was a bit dizzy, but she deemed that it was nothing she could not handle.

While letting her feet dangle, Hermione took a moment to look at her hospital gown. She gave a small chuckle as she looked down.

'_I look like a fucking banana_,' she said in amusement to no one in particular, as she smoothed out a wrinkle on the left side of her gown.

Hermione stood up, holding on to one of the bed railings for support. She bent down ever so slightly to retrieve her fuzzy blue housecoat. After straightening up, she placed one extremity in each sleeve, carefully making sure not to disturb her bandages, and she tied the robe with a lose knot about her waist.

Hermione took one step forward, and suddenly cried out in pain. She grabbed the side of her stomach, feeling a small bandage under her gown. She took a deep breath in, and exhaled. Willing herself to move forward, she took another step away from her bed, and let go of the side railing.

The young woman shuffled ever so slowly for a few feet, eventually making her way towards the end of the bed. Hermione walked towards the wall opposite her bed, and as she was passing, heard a faint whisper coming from where she was.

She stopped for a moment to locate the sound, and finally pinpointed the origin.

…_The daisies were whispering_.

Hermione frowned and crept closer to the flowers, bending ever so slightly in front of them to try and gather what they were saying.

'He…_Hello_?' Hermione greeted the flowers in a quiet whisper, inching ever closer, straining to hear their words.

All of a sudden, all of the daisies in the pot turned towards her. Their black eyes blinked, and smiles flooded their faces. The daisies began to dance around in their pot, bouncing up and down at random.

…And all at once they finally decided to speak. Collectively.

'HELLO HERMIONE! FEEL BETTER SOON!!'

'YOU'LL BE FEELING BETTER IN NO TIME!!'

'SMILES AND SUNSHINE COMING YOUR WAY!!'

'PUT SOME PEP IN THAT STEP! HURRY UP AND GET WELL!!'

Hermione's eyes grew wide, shifting around the room silently looking for any type of help. She held up both hands, trying desperately to quiet the flowers who were in fact yelling tidings of well wishes.

'Shush! Just…please be quiet! Thank you, yes I'm better…now shush now!!' she whispered, in a futile effort to quiet the plant.

All of a sudden, the flowers closed their mouths and became very still. They continued to smile up at her, a few pausing to blink their eyes once or twice.

Hermione straightened herself, pausing to run a hand through her honey-colored hair. She frowned, and continued looking at the daisies.

'_Well that was interesting..._' she muttered to herself, staring at the smiling flowers.

'_Quite_…' said a deep voice from in back of her.

Hermione whipped around, coming face to face with her old Potions Professor, his wand still pointed at the tan flowerpot.

Severus Snape took a moment to regard his wand, before quietly placing it back in his cloak.

'Amusing, would be more like it…I gather you neglected my note, _Miss Granger_?' he added, a smirk upon his face as he gestured towards the opened envelope on her nightstand.

'_Git_…' Hermione thought to herself.

'Oh, well…they…I thought they were speaking to me, and…well I just wanted to make sure that…' she stammered, trying desperate to justify her noncompliance.

Severus raised his eyebrows.

'No need to explain, Miss Granger. Truth be told, I daresay I _am_ surprised to see that you have not fled the hospital setting,' he stated, pausing to look at the fingernails on his left hand.

'It does appear that I will be winning my end of the bargain. After all – here you stand,' he said, pausing to look up at her, a smirk on his sallow face.

Hermione frowned, and her eyebrows creased.

'What?...What _bargain_? I don't…' she questioned, a confused look upon her face.

Suddenly, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes grew wide.

'You mean…you mean you…_betted _on me? As to whether I would try to run?...you did, _didn't you_?!' she said in an exasperated tone, her index finger pointed at the man in black.

An amused expression crept upon Severus' face.

'As I stated before: _here you stand_,' he stated matter-of-factly, offering no other comment on the subject at hand.

Hermione felt her face grow warm. As much as she would have like to hear more about this…proposed deal, she had more important questions that needed tending to.

'Well…are you…I mean aren't you going to explain why…how the_ fuck_ did Draco Malfoy end up in my kitchen last night?!' she yelled aloud, feeling quite aggravated at the apparent lack of information regarding current circumstances.

Severus inhaled and exhaled deeply. His face instantly grew somber, and he turned round, beginning to exit through the door.

Hermione watched in disbelief as he turned his back on her.

'Hey!' Hermione exclaimed, as she began to walk swiftly after her old Professor, paying no mind to the pain she still felt in her abdomen as she clutched it subconsciously.

'HEY!' she exclaimed once again, her voice echoing in the empty hallway as she tried catching up to Severus.

'Aren't I owed an explanation?! I mean, after…after _all of this_…?!' she exclaimed, pulling up her sleeves to display her battle wounds.

Severus scowled.

'Miss Granger, there is no need to show me what I have already seen. It is, however, refreshing to see that you have not disturbed my hard work,' he commented, nodding towards her arms.

Hermione looked at her arms, and quickly put her extremities back in the sleeves of her bathrobe.

'Oh…I…I didn't know that you…_you did this_?' she asked curiously, looking up at Severus as they continued walking down the hallway, side by side.

Severus' lips formed a tight line.

'Did you not think me competent enough to wrap a simple bandage? How very little you think of me…' he stated wistfully.

Hermione frowned.

'No, it's…it's not that…I just…well…_thank you_,' she added quietly, looking at the ground below.

The two walked in silence towards the end of the hall, where upon Severus opened a door leading to another room. It was a quaint little room. Two or three tiny tables were stationed throughout the area. Two chairs were positioned adjacent to a tiny unlit fireplace. A game of wizard chess was placed on one of the tables, begging to be played.

The room was empty. Peaceful. Quiet.

Severus walked towards one of the white chairs next to the fireplace, and Hermione sat in the other. Once seated, she subconsciously tucked her sock-covered feet under her, and rested her chin in her hand.

Severus crossed one leg over the other at the knee, and folded his arms over his chest.

'Your wand, by the way, is safe. And completely intact,' he added, looking at the fireplace.

Hermione cleared her throat.

'Thank you,' she added quietly. 'So…so how _did_ Malfoy end up in my kitchen last night?' she asked, her brow creasing ever so slightly.

Severus sighed.

'Miss Granger, the members of the Order of the Phoenix are quite skilled in covering 'all their bases,' shall we say, however there was a slight glitch in our plan that put you in harms way. For this-' he paused, meeting her soft brown eyes, '-_I am sorry'_ he added sincerely, not a drip of sarcasm in his voice.

Hermione felt a bit taken back.

'A glitch? What do you mean?' she inquired, obviously confused by his last statement.

Severus Snape shifted in his seat ever so slightly.

'Miss Granger, you _were_ and still _are _being protected. At all times. Even throughout the years, you were always protected. When you were given your wand, the Order, including myself, were naïve in believing that you would actually intend to use it so soon, and without one of us present. As luck would have it, you proved us wrong. Very wrong. We had protected you, Miss Granger, because without your wand, _you _were unprotected. When you touched your wand, intending to use it…you lifted that protection, making you vulnerable to those that opposed you,' he stated, continuing to look at the young woman.

Hermione removed her hand from her chin and began to bite the inside of her cheek. She stared at her fingers for awhile before speaking.

'So, you never thought I would pick up my wand again…_did you_?' she stated in a soft voice, not bothering to look at Snape.

A few moments of silence transpired. Neither one spoke, while Hermione's last statement hung in the air like a thick fog.

'So,' Hermione interjected, breaking the silence, '-how long do I have to stay here? I suppose I can leave soon. I would like to go back to my home. To work. To…normal life,' she added, yawning a bit towards the end of her sentence, using the back of one hand to cover her mouth as she shifted in her seat ever so slightly.

Severus frowned and stared at his crossed arms.

'Miss Granger…I am afraid that is not possible,' he said in a calm and collected manner.

Hermione felt her breath halt in her chest.

'Why not?' she asked, unsure if she did in fact want an answer to that very question.

'You cannot return home, Miss Granger…it burned to the ground in the fire. There is nothing left. Aside from the few objects we had managed to salvage before it was…too late,' he added, a touch of guilt heard in his voice.

Hermione's heart fell. Tears prickled her eyes, and she swallowed a lump in her throat as she felt warmth upon her face.

'I…_I see_,' she said, her voice thick.

Suddenly, she smiled a toothless grin, her lips taught. She gave a sarcastic laugh as she wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

'Well, I suppose I have nothing left, do I? No home. No husband. No friends. Tell me– do I even have a fucking _job_ left?!' she asked in a severely irritated tone, her cheeks becoming flushed as she raised her voice.

Severus looked up at her.

'That all depends,' he stated calmly.

'On what?!' Hermione asked, her teeth clenched as her eyes bore into his.

Severus' lips formed a tight line.

'It appears that we are in need of…help. At Hogwarts. It seems that Madame Pomfrey has been requesting assistance in the Hospital Wing for quite some time. And quite truthfully, I do believe the position would suit you well. After all, you _do_ manage to have _some_ medical training and expertise…' he said to her, looking at the young woman sitting opposite him.

Hermione frowned.

'I don't…I don't think that would be such a good idea,' she said softly.

Severus blinked slowly.

'Miss Granger, enlighten me…are you _truly_ happy working where you do? Does it… satisfy you?' he inquired, one eyebrow raised.

Hermione grimaced slightly in response to his inquiry.

'I…well, I suppose…I mean I did work _very_ hard to get where I am today,' she remarked a bit defensively.

'That is not what I am asking,' he retorted, still continuing to look at her.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes. Her head began to hurt once again, and she absentmindedly placed a hand on the back of her head, beginning to massage the top of her neck where the pain was radiating.

'I just…I just don't think I can do it….go back to Hogwarts, I mean…' she added, pausing a bit before mentioning her old Alma Mater.

Severus gave an inaudible sigh.

'Miss Granger…you can always go back home. _If you truly want to_…' he added quietly, pausing to look at his hands.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, wincing as she still continued rubbing her neck.

Suddenly, Severus withdrew a small red-colored vial from the inside of his cloak, and placed it on a small table between them.

'Drink,' he commanded, nodding to the vial. 'It will soothe the pain,' he added.

Hermione frowned at the bottle.

'I assure you, Miss Granger – if I had intended to poison you, I would have done so long ago,' he stated, a scowl upon his face.

The young woman continued looking at the small glass bottle sitting in front of her. Slowly extracting one of her arms, she eased closer towards the bottle, grasped it in her hand, and pulled the cork out from the top of the vial. She sniffed the contents, immediately recognizing the scent. With one gulp, Hermione downed the liquid, feeling the warmth run down her throat and into her stomach. Almost instantly, she felt relaxed, calm…and _awfully_ sleepy.

Within moments of drinking the potion, Hermione gave a yawn, and curled up even tighter upon the chair in which she was sitting.

Severus continued watching the girl as she desperately tried to find a more comfortable position upon the chair.

When she had appeared to settle, Severus rose from his seat, and began to take a few steps forward towards the door. Suddenly, he turned around to look at Hermione, for she began to speak:

'_The bargain_…'she asked as she began to doze off, voice full of sleep as her eyes were completely closed, blocking all that surrounded her. '…_what did you win?_'

Severus' lips formed a tight line.

With his back turned from her once again, he took a few steps forward before stopping and speaking ever so softly, barely above a whisper:

'…Knowing that you are safe…it is priceless, _Hermione_…

…_More than you could ever know_...'


	10. Chapter 10

Severus Snape walked swiftly through the hallways of Saint Mungos, intent on making a quick and effortless exit. His mind was cluttered with various details and possible scenarios, all of which he _begged_ his mind not to pay any attention to. But alas, the thoughts festered inside his mind, and failed to leave him.

To be quite honest, he was unsure why _he_ had approached Hermione Granger. Unsure why _he_ was most keen on having her return to Hogwarts. And most of all, why he felt as though her presence at the old school would leave her most protected, and out of harms way. It was perhaps the third option that left the Potions Professor most uncertain. He felt a need to protect the young woman; a need to make her safe, to make certain that he would do everything in his power to guarantee her safety. Why, he did not know. Perhaps it was, as they say, '_for the greater good'_ of it all. Yes, that was it, he told himself. It _had_ to be that:

…._For the greater good_…

As he continued to walk, paying no mind to wandering eyes that caught a glimpse of the tall figure in black, he thought for the slightest second that Hermione was a fool for even listening to him, and to them. If it were him, he thought, he wouldn't have been as reluctant to even _entertain_ the thought of reentering a world in which had caused so much heartache.

Severus sighed. He had secretly hoped that the girl would come to her senses, and take the offer that he had laid before her. But something, just _something _about her today did not seem…_balanced_. The look she gave him when they were sitting in her kitchen nights ago: that look of hopelessness, the instance when she allowed him to view her thoughts, her memories, all of that seemed to have veiled her once again. And to be honest, it did not give Severus a very good feeling. Not in the least.

How he wished he could tell her how much people missed her; how he had caught Molly Weasley sobbing by the fire at Headquarters on more than one occasion, holding a picture of the young woman in her hands. How even Potter himself had changed, no longer as happy-go-lucky without Granger around. Everyone had been affected by her silence, by her unwillingness to stay. If only she knew…_if only she knew_…

Hermione slept silently, peacefully in her quasi-comfortable chair in the lounge. She dreamt of nothing, a blank canvas upon which not a single thought was placed, and continued to slumber in the tiny room.

All of a sudden, the door to the lounge opened and banged on the opposite wall with a loud 'thud.'

'Hey!' exclaimed a young man standing in the doorframe, a small bouquet of lilies in his one hand. His lightning shaped scar peeked through the tufts of dark brown hair askew on his head.

Hermione's eyes sprung open. She yelped, and instantly fell off of her chair onto the cool floor below, startled by his presence.

Harry frowned.

'Oh, Mione…I didn't think…oh here, let me help-' he said in an apologetic tone, rushing over to help out the poor young woman lying on the floor.

Hermione struggled to get up. She met Harry face to face while still on the ground. Offering one arm to stand her up, the other trying to scoop her up about her waist into a standing position, he managed to help her and still maintain the integrity of the flowers.

'Oh Harry…_oh I'm alright_,' she muttered, trying to regain her balance while attempting to stand.

Harry kept his arm around her.

'Sorry to have frightened you, Mione. Snape didn't mention that you were asleep when I saw him down the hall,' Harry mentioned quietly, taking a free hand and adjusting the spectacles upon his face.

Hermione looked at Harry with a confused expression.

'Oh, he left…right…,' she said, looking around the room now void of her old Potions Professor's presence. She gathered that the liquid he had given her to drink knocked her out. She looked at the chair next to her, and saw that there was just the _tiniest _bit of the ruby-colored fluid left in the vial sitting on the small wooden table.

Harry took a moment to clear his throat. Releasing his hold from Hermione, he looked down at the bouquet, and then offered it to her.

'Here,' he said, a wide and goofy grin upon his face. 'Got these for you. Though I'm sure they pail in comparison to what everyone else had gotten you,' he said a bit sheepishly.

Hermione looked at the flowers. With a small smile hiding the sadness in her eyes, she took the flowers in her hand. Pausing to smell them, inhaling their sweet and awfully recognizable fragrance, she closed her eyes, and then looked up at Harry.

'You don't happen to know who sent the singing daisies, _do you_?' she questioned, her eyebrows slightly raised.

Harry laughed, and ran a hand through his hair.

'Oh, that would be a gift from Fred. And George. Both of whom whish you a speedy recovery…in their own little way, of course,' he added, a grin upon his face.

Hermione nodded and offered a small chuckle.

'I see,' she commented, pausing to look at the flowers once again.

_Lillies_, she thought to herself. _If only Harry knew how many of them adorned her home after Ron had passed away_…Her face grew dark, and she closed her eyes.

Harry's face grew solemn.

'Hermione,' he said, '-I wanted to ask you something. Well, it's about your job, you see. I know that you are probably…_unhappy_ where you're at…well I don't know that entirely, but I wanted to let you know that with all the Quidditch injuries and such at school, Madame Pomfrey is in need of an assistant and, well, I just thought-'

Hermione held up a stiff hand to silence him.

'Harry, Snape already asked me,' she said in a defiant voice. Hermione reached up to scratch the back of her head, and scrunched up her eyes. She shook her head slowly, and chuckled softly to herself before sitting down gently in the same chair she had fell asleep on. It was still warm.

Harry took a moment to regard the woman in front of him, slightly befuddled by her reaction, and then brought forth a chair from one of the adjacent tables. Placing the wooden chair in front of Hermione, he sat down in front of her and looked at the young woman. He paused a moment before gently placing his hands upon hers.

'Mione,' he began in a voice only above a whisper, '-we really do miss you. Honest. And don't think of this as a form of pity, or…or whatever you may think. Because it's not true. We…I'm so _tired _of seeing you so miserable…so _unhappy_…' he added, looking down into his lap.

Hermione's brow creased, and she quickly withdrew her clasped hands from Harry. Her chest tightened at the sound of his words, and for a brief moment, a veil of anger washed over her.

'What makes you think that _I'm_ miserable?! That I do not enjoy what I do?!' she asked in a defensive tone, her heart beating a mile a minute in her chest. Hermione suddenly got up, and strode to the opposite side of the room away from Harry.

'YOU were the ones that bothered me. YOU were the ones that…that call me miserable, unhappy. Well…well where have _you_ been all these god damn years?! Why _now _do you suddenly give a fuck what has happened to me?! ' She yelled, irritated with not only Harry, but herself as well.

Harry watched Hermione walk away from him. He got up, and turned towards her. He gave a frustrated sigh, and looked down at the ground.

'Mione,' he said softly, '-who are you kidding? _Really_? Just please…just put down those walls for a second,' he added, beginning to walk slowly towards her. Hermione continued to keep her back towards her old friend.

Harry continued speaking to her.

'I know, Mione…I've seen…I've seen you..the nights you came home and sobbed for hours on your couch. The times that you've sat at your kitchen table, eating supper alone. Those times, Mione…does…does it make you _happy_? Because I know you. Despite what you may think, or believe, or may not want to acknowledge…I_ know_ you. And I miss you…And I cant'…won't stand for it anymore. So just please…please consider what Snape offered…'

Harry's voice trailed off, as he found himself only a foot away from the woman in front of him.

Hermione's eyes stung with tears.

'_You know nothing about me_…' she uttered softly, staring straight ahead.

She was stubborn, much too stubborn to acknowledge to anyone that she truly hated what she had become. What she had _let_ herself become. She was tired…so _damn_ tired of being unhappy. And why should she continue to live her life this way? Didn't she, of all people, deserve a little happiness in her life…?

The past few days had proved to be a whirlwind for the young woman. She had vowed to move on, to forget as much pain and suffering from the past as she could. And as of late, that vow was broken. For Hermione was reminded of her past every single god damn minute since she was first approached by those two men. Ever since they found her that night on the bridge by the river, she was condemned to remembering her old life…a life she _desperately_ wanted to forget…

Hermione continued looking straight ahead, a blank look upon her face.

…And suddenly, something inside her snapped. A thought hit her; a single gut wrenching thought that perhaps confirmed that she was truly selfish, truly miserable, and _truly_ beyond hope…

…It all began by the river.

…_And it will all end by the river_…

Hermione walked slowly to the far side of the room, standing directly in front of an oil painting, bewitched by magic of course. It was of a young woman, neatly dressed, sitting and reading to a little boy who sat on her lap. Her son, perhaps. They looked happy, content, peaceful. And Hermione was envious beyond comparison viewing the lively painting, the smiles that adorned both figures. It was a painful reminder that she had lost loved ones, so dear to her heart, leaving her permanently broken.

Hermione longed for peace, for happiness. She was tired of fighting. Tired of people (most often as of late) telling her what she should and should not be doing. She felt as though they were using her – using her to fulfill a prophecy for which she held no concern. It made her angry, to be used. Angry to feel like a pawn in their game.

_It was selfish, _she admitted_; _so selfish of her to feel this way_. But what other choice did she have_?

The young woman put a hand up to her mouth and slowly closed her eyes. Opening them once more, and with one final look at the painting, Hermione turned around to face harry. Her eyes were dark, empty, a blank look upon her face as she looked at him in silence.

Suddenly the door to the lounge flew open, and her primary physician at Saint Mungos, Dr. Philips poked his head in.

'Oh there you are, my dear! Been looking for you for a while now! Well, looks like you are free to go my dear, whenever you're ready,' he added, a goofy grin upon his face as he continued to peek inside the doorframe. With a nod towards the pair, he left as soon as he arrived.

Harry turned his head to look at Dr. Philips as he left closing the door behind him with a resounding _bang_, and then slowly turned back to look at Hermione. With a soft grin on his face, he spoke softly to her:

'So, Mione –what'll it be? We…I can take you…I can take you to Headquarters, if you wanted to,' he said quietly to her, barely above a whisper. 'I can…I can take you home, Mione…where you belong…' he added, hope blinding his green eyes that sparkled with just the slightest excitement.

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. Her heart ached. She had no home. But there was something, _one_ thing that she needed to do. She needed to see the one thing that was connected to her, even in the most non-familial way. The one thing that mattered most…for now:

Hermione wanted to see Crookshanks.

…She wanted to say a proper goodbye to him.

With tears beginning to well in her eyes, Hermione spoke directly to Harry, without even the slightest inflection in her voice.

'Harry, please take me to Helen Crawford's home. There's something there that I had…f_orgotten_…'


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione sat on the edge of her neatly made hospital bed at Saint Mungos. Her one hand rest in her lap, while the other played with a stray piece of sky-blue frayed fabric on her blanket. Hermione stared straight ahead, chewing the inside of her lip as she stared at a small spot on the otherwise pristine wall that was across from her bed. The young woman sighed, closed her eyes, and then looked down at her lap.

Yesterday evening, Harry had brought some clothes with him to give to her in the hospital. She donned the clothes without much thought – a pair of jeans, a purple tee shirt, and a pewter gray sweater was her fashion of choice today. Not that she _did_ have much choice. It was one of the few things he grabbed from her home before it was burned to the ground.

Hermione gave a grave smile…

_No home. No family. No husband…literally, all she had were the clothes on her back…_

Hermione sighed. _No matter_, she thought. _ Things will be all right…things will turn out just fine…_

Her mind continued to wander. She looked at her watch. It was close to supper time, and even though her stomach managed to give forth a few rumbles here and there, the young woman was almost completely void of appetite.

Just then, Hermione heard one set of soft footsteps echoing throughout the hall, gradually coming closer and closer. She looked up at the doorframe, waiting any minute for the individual to find her in her room.

It was Harry who stopped within her doorframe.

He looked genuinely glad to see her, though in his eyes, she could see just a twinge of hurt behind them. Hurt that she would not be coming to headquarters with him this evening. Hurt that he couldn't be hailed as a hero for bringing her to, as they say, '_where she belonged._' And even though Hermione felt just a hint, just the _slightest _most _minute_ sliver of regret for what she had planned for this evening, she inwardly smiled at the notion that she was going to win. That she was going to win the battle, and _no one_ from either side could stop her…

'Ready to go, Mione?' Harry asked softly, taking a moment to survey the area. Her belongings, what little she had, were neatly tucked away, and it was assumed that she was dressed and ready to go.

Hermione gave a small smile. She picked up a cloth bag sitting beside her, and likewise scooped up one of the flower arrangements that could not fit inside the bag. She could not deny the thought of using her wand to shrink the items, but she had grown used to surviving without magic, living without magic; that she, Hermione, wanted to do things her way; the way she was _used _to.

Hermione stood up slowly, not giving any hint that she was still in a fair amount of pain from her attack the other night. Standing firmly on the floor, feeling her feet becoming grounded, she looked up at Harry.

'Let's go,' she said with a sad smile, her brown eyes hiding a world of truth beneath them.

Harry stepped closer to the young woman. Without a word, he took hold of the single plant held in her arm.

'Here,' he said, relinquishing her hold on the object. 'It's the least I can do,' he said softly, looking into her brown eyes.

'Thanks,' Hermione whispered, her one hand clutched so tightly around the straps of the cloth bag that her palms began to sweat profusely.

Hermione walked through the doorframe, and out into the hallway. The area was just about deserted. An older gentleman in a light blue lab coat could be seen down the hall, trying to tackle something with purple spots in a large glass fish bowl. Hermione rolled her eyes, and walked the other way.

The young man and young woman walked side by side down the hall, two pairs of trainers treading softly on the floor below, giving slight echo to the walls that surrounded them. Out of the side of his vision, Harry could see Hermione walking stiffly, purposefully, as if she were on death row walking to meet her maker. He could not understand, could not comprehend why she seemed so sad, so unemotional since that day that they met face to face on the bridge nights ago. Something inside her was changing. Something inside was eating away at her. And it gave Harry a very, _very_ bad feeling…

Severus Snape also had a very, _very_ bad feeling.

He sat at the long wooden table in Grimmauld place; not having much of an appetite, he sat and observed the other individuals eat away at their supper. The Weasley twins, Ginny, and both Arthur and Molly were chatting away, excited at the notion that Hermione would be staying just a few doors away. Knowing that she was that close to them was a joyous prospect; that perhaps in a day or two, she would be moving into Grimmauld Place, and even be back to Hogwarts working in the Hospital Wing.

Severus snorted, looking down at his scarcely touched platter.

How they _longed_ to see her; how they wished in their hearts that she would re-join, what they termed as '_their family_.' And once again, Severus wished just in the slightest bit that Hermione knew just how _much_ her presence meant to all of them. Reaching for his drink, Severus extended his arm, and then withdrew it suddenly, hissing in pain. All members of the Weasley clan stopped speaking immediately, and turned to look at him.

Molly's face grew grave.

'They're calling for you…?' she asked, a mixed look of worry and disapprove on her face.

Severus looked at the older woman and sneered. Without a single word, Severus stood up from his seat, and exited the kitchen into the dark hallway. A meeting this evening _wasn't _planned. A meeting tonight _wasn't _scheduled. Unscheduled meetings, unplanned meetings were usually not pleasant, Severus reminded himself. The Potions Professor sighed inwardly, stopping in the middle of the hallway, and closing his eyes. Reopening them, he stepped towards the front door. Taking hold of the knob, Severus welcomed the breath of cool crisp early autumn air that hit his nostrils almost instantaneously.

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent of the evening, the cool air chilling her ever so slightly. She had grabbed hold of Harry's arm as he extended it out to her, apparating across the street from Helen Crawford's home. Hermione blinked twice, looking at the plain yet dismal home's exterior, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Hermione let go of Harry's arm as if it were burning her. She cleared her throat, pushing a strand of hair out of her face and slinging her cloth bag over one shoulder. Harry looked at the young woman, and smiled. He began to walk across the deserted street, while Hermione followed behind. She placed her hands in the pockets of her sweater, her fingers balled into fists. As if in slow motion, Hermione noticed out of the corner of her eye, a figure exit out of a home two doors away. His unmistakable ebony garb and sallow skin would give him away anywhere, and Hermione turned her head to look at the man walking down the concrete steps. With his cloak billowing in the evening breeze, he too turned his head to see Hermione walking across the street towards Helen Crawford's home. She turned her head ever so slowly, taking a glimpse at the person on the other side of the street. Severus had to admit he was a bit taken back by her sudden appearance. Her eyes stared into his, as she walked towards the home, her face completely void of emotion as she continued to stare at him. Severus paused to look at the pair walk up the steps of the home, Hermione giving him one last look as she walked into the house, closing the door behind her.

Severus sighed. He took a small object out of his cloak, and with a wave of his hand, it became a grotesque mask that Severus quickly placed on his face. Without a single word, he took out his wand touching the mark on his forearm, and disappeared into the night.

Hermione stood in the parlor of Helen Crawford's home. It smelled…well it smelled lemony. And a bit…well, like an _old_ _person._ Hermione scrunched up her nose, and looked around the room. She was scanning the floors, the furniture, even the bookshelf in the corner of the room for Crookshanks, desperate to see the furry orange creature whom she had wanted to visit. It was, after all, her only motive for coming to this old woman's home tonight.

Harry ventured into the kitchen, where Ms. Crawford sat with a plate full of food in front of her. She also had one for Harry, and one for Hermione. Again, Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt sick to her stomach, and couldn't possibly eat the entire plate of food that was set out for her. Harry exchanged pleasantries with the older woman, and motioned for Hermione to sit down next to him. Walking ever so slowly over to the wooden seat meant for her, Hermione gently sat down in the chair, removing her bag ever so slowly from her shoulder and placing it gently by her feet.

'Mione, want me to put your bag upstairs?' Harry asked already with a mouth full of pot roast, motioning towards the bag lying by her side.

Hermione's eyes grew large.

'NO!' she exclaimed, a bit too loud even for her own taste. Hermione was caught off-guard by her response, and forced a small smile.

'I mean…it's OK, really Harry. I'll just keep it here until…until I'm ready to say good night,' she said in a soft voice, making eye contact with the young man next to her.

The evening meal passed in a flash for Hermione. She stared at her supper, her thoughts rambling throughout her entire mind. She ate maybe two, three bites of her supper.

'Not hungry, dear?' Ms. Crawford asked, a kind smile upon her face and a sparkle in her eye as she observed the young woman's actions.

Hermione cleared her throat. Pausing to take a drink of water, she spoke to the older woman.

'Not really…I think I'm just…just a little exhausted, you know…' she said, looking at her hands now folded neatly in her lap.

Harry looked up at the clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen.

'Woah! Didn't think it was _that _late. Gotta run, ladies – nightly rounds at the school. Remember the times we three tried _not _to get caught when we walked the halls at night?' Harry chuckled, remembering the good times they used to have at Hogwarts.

Hermione inwardly cringed at the mention of her old school. And at the word, 'three.' For the _three _had become _two_…

_And was soon to become only one_…

Harry stood up quickly, bending to given Ms. Crawford a peck on the cheek, thanking her profusely for the delicious meal, and then pausing to look at Hermione who refused to return his gaze. He stopped in front of her, bending down to give her a small kiss on her cool cheek.

'_You'll be OK Mione…you'll see_,' he whispered into her ear, before walking out of the kitchen, and closing the door a little too hard behind him.

Ms. Crawford watched the boy exit out of her home, and turned towards Hermione.

'I think…I think I'd like some tea before bed,' Hermione interjected, before Ms. Crawford could say another word.

With a smile, the old woman got up from her seat and walked towards the stove.

'No wait!' Hermione shouted. 'I mean…why don't you sit in the other room, and I…I'll make some tea for…for the both of us,' she said, another forced smile upon her lips.

Ms. Crawford squinted one eye and cocked her head. 'Are you sure my dear?' she inquired.

'It's…it's the least I can do…and plus, I am _awfully _picky about how I prepare my tea,' she added in a quiet voice.

The older woman smiled. 'Very well, dear. I'll be in the other room if you need me,' she said kindly, making her way out of the room, pausing to close the kitchen door behind her.

Hermione's heart raced. Her plan was about to be put into action.

With a swift move, Hermione filled the kettle with water, placing it on the stove. She retrieved two tea bags from Ms. Crawford's cabinet, adjacent to the stove. Pausing to look at all the unused medication bottles, Hermione became infuriated, and became even more so when pausing to look at the article regarding Dumbledore's death. Hermione sneered, and walked over to her bag. She placed the bag on her chair, and reached deep into it, extracting a small vial with just a tad of blood-red liquid sitting at the bottom.

The tea kettle began to whistle, and Hermione removed it from the heat underneath. Teacups and saucers were already placed by the stove, the tea bags draped over the rim of each porcelain cup. Just as she was about to pour the water into the first cup, she felt something brush her leg. She looked down, her eyes growing large, and she plopped the kettle back on the stove with a '_bang.'_

'Crooks!' she exclaimed quietly, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

Hermione picked up her cat in one fell swoop, the feline beginning to purr almost instantaneously. Hermione choked back tears as she smashed her face into his orange fur.

'Oh Crookshanks! Oh I came back to see you, did you know that? I don't have much time…I just..I just wanted to see you one last time…I know you have a good home here, and…' Hermione began to silently sob into his fur. Cradling him in her arms, she looked into his big eyes.

'I will miss you…just please trust me that it's for the best, _OK_?' she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

Just then, Hermione heard a distant voice coming from the other room.

'Everything alright dear?' the older woman asked from the room next door.

Hermione sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleep, placing the cat down by her legs. She placed the remaining contents of the small vial into one cup, drowning it in hot water from the kettle.

'Yes, Ms. Crawford. Everything is just fine…' she yelled pausing to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her gray sweater.

Moments later, the two women sat side by side on the couch, sipping their nightly brew. Within minutes, Helen Crawford downed her cup, and as she made her way to stand up to grant herself a refill, the potion hit her like a ton of bricks.

She crumbled onto the floor, her teacup and saucer crashing to the floor below. Hermione had not expected the potion to act so suddenly. But there the old woman was, lying on the ground, her snores echoing in the parlor within seconds.

Hermione got up, draining the last remaining contents of her cup. Placing it on the side of the sofa, Hermione stooped down to pick up the shards of porcelain, hoping that her cat wouldn't step on them and injure himself.

Once scooping up the pieces, Hermione footed it to the kitchen, tossing the contents into the trashcan. Hermione grabbed her bag from the kitchen, the only belongings that she had, and walked back into the other room. Pausing to look at Helen Crawford, Hermione once again had tears in her eyes. With a hand dropping blindly into her bag, she retrieved a hand written note that she placed ever so gently next to the kind woman. A smear of blood was on the note, and Hermione gasped. She studied her hand, and flipping it over noticed that her palm had began to bleed. Guessing it was from the broken cup and saucer, she shrugged it off. There was absolutely no time to waste.

Hermione gave a final look around the home, secretly wishing to see Crookshanks one last time. She bit her lip as her eyes began to well. The young woman walked swiftly towards the front door, opened it, and hurried down the steps.

Her car was out front, and she silently prayed that her keys were in her bag. For without them, her plan would be greatly delayed. Recognizing the familiar jingle at the bottom of the bag, Hermione opened her car door, started the engine and prayed that she had enough gas to get to where she wanted to be. Her prayers were answered, and without a single glance at the shabby house, or at Headquarters, Hermione stepped on the gas pedal and was gone.

Severus Snape let his mind wander as he waited for other members to join the meeting at Malfoy Manor, his mask hiding both his appearance and emotions. Suddenly, Lucius Malfoy entered the darkened room. Removing his mask, he spoke to the other Death Eaters in the room.

'Lord Voldemort is not…feeling _exactly_ up to par…however, he has allowed me to call this meeting to alert you to a certain bit of information regarding the Mudblood Granger,' he sneered, letting everyone hear the hatred for the young woman in his voice.

Severus listened with great interest.

Lucius continued addressing the members in the room.

'A source from Saint Mungos stated that the Mudblood was to be staying at a woman named Helen Crawford's home. Severus-' Lucius commanded, pausing to look at the figure standing by the window, '-you are to be given the task of proving the…_reliability_ of this source. Find whoever this Crawford woman is, and see if the Mudblood is with her. Take no action if you find them. I'd like to deal with them personally,' he added, the scarcasm dripping from his voice as a sneer grazed his lips.

Severus' breath caught in his chest.

'As you wish, Lucius. _As you wish_…' Severus added in a cool tone, not giving any hint to what he already knew to be true.

For a brief moment, the two men stared at each other. Lucius gave a small bow to the Potions Professor, and left the room in a few quick steps. Taking this as a sign that the meeting was adjourned, Severus walked hastily to the outside hallway, speaking to no one on his way, and swiftly stepped through the door leading outside. He apparated without a hitch, and appeared directly outside Helen Crawford's home.

Pausing on the sidewalk, he knew something was wrong as he silently scanned the area.

Hermione's car was missing.

Severus' mouth became dry as cotton as he swiftly removed his mask with his wand, placing the small object in his cloak. Walking up the concrete steps towards the front of the older woman's door, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. There was a scratching noise from the other side of the door. Severus opened the wooden door, and was greeted instantly by Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. The animal meowed over and over again, as if her were trying desperately to give Severus a message. The Potions Professor looked at the animal, and then walked a few feet, looking into the parlor.

Helen Crawford was on the ground. Out cold.

Severus' eyes grew wide, his brow furrowed.

Looking closer at the woman, he noticed a piece of paper lying next to her, a smudge of blood on the outside.

Severus felt his heart quicken, a surge of heat rising towards his neck.

Opening the letter, he silently read the carefully scripted words on the page:

_I would like to thank you most sincerely for your generous hospitality. I would also like to apologize in advance for giving you a sleeping potion in your evening tea. Please know that I meant no harm to you. It was to serve a purpose, my purpose to be exact, and I know that appears truly selfish in nature. Once again, I apologize. Please take care of Crookshanks. He is the only thing I have (had) connected to me throughout the years, even in the smallest sense. He is a clever cat, as you may have realized, and always enjoys a good mouse hunt. It is most probable that a member of the Order will find you slumbering from the potion, or, you may wake up on your own to find my last words next to you. Please tell those that are involved in the Order that I have meant no harm to them. I only wish that they move on, as I have done. Tell Harry that I love him, and please tell Professor Snape that I had thought kindly of him all these years. I am sorry to be a disappointment to all of you, but in hindsight, it really is better this way. _

_All my love,_

_Dr. Hermione Granger_

_P.S On the back of this note, I have written the name and number of a new physician for Helen Crawford, in the chance that she may like to be seen by a colleague of mine to receive medical care._

Severus felt his stomach sink to the floor.

'_Fuck_' he uttered under his breath, and looked upon the room once more, glancing at the snoring woman by his feet.

After checking the entire house for any sign of the young woman, he strode out of the house, slamming the door behind him, the note crumpled in his hand.

'_Where the fuck could she have gone_…' he muttered under his breath. His eyes began to dart, as he thought like mad where she could have been.

He was infuriated with her. Disappointed. Angry. But most of all, he feared. He feared for her safety, and for the second time that evening had a very, _very_ bad feeling.

Severus apparated to several sites where the young woman could have gone. The graveyard where Ron and her parents were buried, to the grounds upon which her parent's home stood, the grounds upon which her own home had stood not too long ago. She was not there.

Severus' brow began to bead with sweat. He was livid, mostly at himself. And then, he thought of another place that he did not yet check. The place where he had seen her come so many times. The place where he and Potter saw her just nights ago, when she willed them to leave her alone. The thought hit him like lightning, and he immediately apparated to the bridge by the river.

The first thing he saw was her hair fluttering ever so softly in the wind.

She had heard the apparition 'pop' in the background, but did not care enough to turn around to see who it was. It could be a Death Eater for all she cared, and yet it still would not have mattered.

Severus walked slowly towards the young woman, who was perched on the side of the concrete bridge, her feet dangling off of the ledge as she stared into the cold dark water below. He stopped several feet behind her. Severus started to open his mouth to speak to her, when all of a sudden, he heard a small voice.

'When Ron died…he…he didn't know something that I think would have…_could_ have given him hope. Hope enough to strengthen his heart so he would be here this very day…' Hermione began to sob quietly into her hand, covering her mouth ever so gently. After a brief moment, she continued, saying something Severus was not prepared to hear.

'When Ron died, I…I was pregnant. And three days after his passing, I…I lost the baby,' she said softly, her voice cracking ever so slightly. Hermione sniffed, and she paused to catch some of the tears that had been flooding her vision.

Severus was speechless.

Then Hermione did something he did not expect her to do.

She laughed, and turned her head to face him.

'You see, I can't even do _that_ right! Not a _single _damn thing…' she said, the anguish unmistakable on her tear-stricken face.

Severus looked at Hermione, and shifted his focus to her wand placed neatly next to her, fully intact.

'Your wand – why did you bring it?' he inquired, paying careful attention to the words he chose.

Hermione sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand.

'Honestly, I have no idea,' she mumbled, looking down at the familiar piece of wood.

Suddenly, Severus had an idea. It was risky, oh _so_ very risky, but since the girl was being so damn stubborn about the whole ordeal, he thought he would play along.

'Well, Dr. Granger, if you are_ that_ unhappy, _that _unwilling to help those that have helped you, then by all means-' he stated, gesturing at the wand, '-_what are you waiting for_?'

Hermione blinked.

'You mean…you mean you're not going to try and talk me out…out of ending…_everything_?' she asked, obviously perplexed at his last statement.

Severus scowled.

'Well, you _have _obviously made up your mind, haven't you? You have the means to…_complete_ your mission. I will not stand in your way,' he advised.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. He was agreeing with her. Obviously, he wanted her gone as well. Not that she could blame him.

Suddenly, Hermione had an idea. The young witch grabbed her wand and stood up, her back towards the ledge and the river below. She looked at her wand, pointed at her chest, and stared up into the night sky before turning towards Severus.

'You know, I always thought you were the best Professor at…Hogwarts,' she said quietly. She offered him a small smile.

Severus' breath caught in his chest. He prayed, prayed to _God_ that he knew what she was going to do, what spell she was going to use.

With a small smile, Hermione inhaled and exhaled deeply before uttering the words that brought hope to Severus' ears.

_Avada Kedavra_!

With a green flash, the woman was knocked squarely in the chest by the power of her own wand, and she flew back into the river below, making a splash in the night air.

Severus scowled.

On one hand, he was relieved. _Very _relieved. For one cannot kill themselves using the Avada curse. She was still alive, just…knocked out. On the other hand, this meant he had to go fishing for her in the river below. Something he could be less than interested in doing on this chilly evening.

Severus carefully trotted down the grassy-sloped bank, and stepping knee deep in the water, scooped the lifeless form of Hermione Granger into his arms. She was drenched and still as she lay in his arms. He took a moment to regard her lifeless form, how peaceful her face was, the river washing her tears, and her pain away.

Severus inhaled and exhaled deeply.

'You are a foolish, and stupid woman. _Especially_ for a Doctor,' he mumbled under his breath while still holding her in the river, his face twisted in disgust. 'Why must you do this to us…to _me_' he whispered, looking at her face once again. He had only one true thing to say to her; one thing that he wished she was conscious enough to hear, one thing that he meant from the bottom of his heart:

'I'm sorry Hermione. So very sorry…'


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing Dr. Hermione Granger heard was the sound of birds chirping in the far distance. They sounded quite cheerful, and from what she gathered, had an _awful_ lot to say for the time being. She smiled silently to herself as she listened to the small creatures chitchat away. She was warm and cozy under a soft blanket, or what she perceived to be a blanket, and the scent of lavender filled her nostrils as she took small, silent breaths, inhaling the luscious and most welcomed scent, letting it permeate throughout her nasal cavity.

_I must be in heaven_, the young woman happily thought with her eyes still tightly closed. Hermione inhaled and exhaled deeply, opening her eyes ever so slowly, letting the slightest bit of bright light touch her delicate brown orbs. She was curled on her left hand side, and took a moment to slowly and quietly rub the sleep out of her eyes with her right hand. She continued opening her eyes ever so slowly, squinting them almost instantly due to the rays of sunshine that poured in from the window she was currently facing.

_How beautiful…_, the young doctor thought, straining to gaze at an ocean blue sky filled with tufts of cotton-like puffs of clouds strewn amongst the heavens. Hermione yawned, and itched the bridge of her nose with her right hand. Still positioned on her left hand side, Hermione smiled as she gazed as the heavens. She gave a slight smile and closed her eyes once again, a peaceful and content warmth enveloping her internal being.

…Unfortunately, the welcomed feeling would be rather short lived…

'_Is she awake yet_?' came an inquisitive male voice from behind her; a sound that made Hermione's eyes fly open within an instant. The voice…the voice was unmistakable; a voice she would recognize anywhere. Hermione gritted her teeth behind closed lips, and continued staring blindly at the open sky, the sunlight piercing her retinas.

'I think she's just stirring…she's probably still sleeping,' muttered an older woman, the disappointment unmistakable in her voice. Hermione gritted her teeth even harder, her breath caught in her chest.

'Well Minerva, would you not gather that the girl would be out for several hours…I mean, she performed the Avada curse on _herself_ for God's sake…it's just by luck that she didn't remember that it's _impossible_ to kill one's self with the curse…' a male's voice trailed on, rambling quietly to himself.

At hearing this latest statement, Hermione gritted her teeth so hard, they were sure to crumble into tiny white remnants in her mouth. Her nostrils flared, as she reminded herself to breath once again. Her eyes remained wide open, and she continued to stare out the window, her eyes now darting back and forth as she began to process what was occurring behind her.

…And suddenly it hit her…

She was not dead.

She was very much alive.

She had _failed_ once again…

Hermione threw the covers off in one swift motion. She eased her torso up from the mattress, and swung her legs off of the bed. Facing the window while quickly exiting the bed, the young woman flew around to receive her audience in wait.

Four pairs of eyes stared at the woman in front of them. Four pairs of eyes that held concern, relief, and happiness all wrapped in one. Four pairs of eyes that looked at the young woman in front of them, and saw only one thing:

_Rage._

Hermione looked furious. And _that _was putting it mildly.

Her hands were balled like fists by her side, nails digging into her fleshy palm. Her hair was haphazardly placed on top of her head, curls falling about her face giving her an even more wild appearance. The whites of her eyes showed forth, her gritted teeth now peeking ever so slightly through her pink lips. Even the deep red satin pajamas Hermione was wearing suited her mood perfectly:

Her temper was about to _explode_ into a fiery eruption…

Hermione looked at the group in silence, her nostrils flared at the sight in front of her. She looked around the room, eyes quickly scanning her environment, as she looked up to confirm her greatest fear as of late. The arches in the ceiling were unmistakable, undeniable, and the realization of it all hit her like a slap across the face:

She was in the hospital wing…

…_At Hogwarts Castle_…

Molly Wesley, Minerva McGonagle, Arthur Weasley, and Harry Potter all stood facing her, only feet away, blocking her only exit. And this made Hermione a very, _very _defensive woman.

'What…the…_FUCK_… is_…this_…?!' Hermione demanded, pointing a finger at the group, her eyes wild with fury, her words coming out one by one.

Harry took a step forward, both of his palms raised to her to offer a sigh of truce.

'Hermione, relax. Just calm down and we'll-' the young man began in a calm, quite voice.

'Relax?! You want me to _relax_?!' Hermione yelled in disbelief, one hand placed forcefully on her chest, the other pointed at Harry.

'You bastard…you knew…you _all _knew what would happen…and then…and then you brought me _here_…and you know, you ALL know that I did not, absolutely _REFUSE _to be here!!' Hermione's breathing grew more and more rapid, her hands once again balled into tight sweaty fists, shaking at her side.

Molly Weasley looked absolutely terrified, her face as pail as a sheet.

'Hermione, dear. Please just calm yourself. We are not going to hurt you, in _any_ way. You're safe-' but poor Molly never had a chance to finish her statement.

'Safe?! _SAFE_?! What the_ FUCK_ do you mean by safe?! I am NOT safe here!' Hermione yelled, her hands reaching to hold her head, the anger rising inside of her, controlling her emotions.

'Hermione, you are safe. We're here – you're _family_ is here,' Arthur Weasly calmly stated, silently pleading for Hermione to come to her senses.

…And suddenly, something in Hermione snapped.

She felt her anger peak, the fury boil over within her chest: she felt so irate, it was now _completely _out of her control…

'NO! STOP IT!' she screamed, shutting her eyes as tight as can be, her fingers digging ruthlessly into her scalp as she bent her head over, her body curving forward. Salty tears stung her eyes, and willed to spill down her flushed cheeks

And just as soon as Hermione uttered her last sentence, four pairs of eyes focused in shock upon one of the bedside tables; for there stood a once completely intact gallon-sized jar, full of puffy cream-colored cotton-balls, which were now strewn about the floor. The large glass jar shattered into pieces so forcefully by Hermione's words, that Arthur Weasley instinctively reached for his wand, and Molly Weasley yelped, taking two steps back, Harry offering a protective arm about her back.

Hermione, with her hands still gripping her head, her nails digging deeper into her scalp, and still apparently unaffected by the consequence of her actions, continued yelling at the top of her lungs:

'GO AWAY! JUST GO AWAY!' she screamed, her voice booming throughout the room.

And suddenly, the doors to the hospital wing violently flew open, crashing loudly against the marble walls of the castle, the sound echoing loudly throughout the room, and most likely the entire castle.

And behind those doors - behind those once closed, heavy wooden doors, standing only feet away from the infirmary, was a tall gentleman dressed in black. A man who clearly had the look of fear in his deep, dark eyes; a man who desperately wanted to help the poor woman seen before him, but was reluctant to do so, for fear of his own safety.

Severus took a moment to scan the ground in front of him.

Pieces of wood from the door had fallen to the ground below, as a result of its violent opening. Some pieces were the size of splinters; others, small planks.

Slowly placing his gaze upward, he looked at the young woman, still with her hands on her head, her eyes shut tight.

'_Dear God…it's true_,' he whispered to himself, inaudible to those in the room.

As if hearing his voice, Hermione's head snapped up like a bolt of lightning, and opening her eyes, her face still streaked with tears, she looked up at the voice from out in the hall. She removed her hands from her head.

Her mood changed from one of fury, to pure despair.

'_Why_…' she whispered, looking directly into Severus' darkened eyes, '-why did you _do_ this to me?' she pleaded, her voice hoarse, her mouth dry.

Severus continued to look at her, his face now void of emotion.

The four people already in the room turned to look at the figure in the outside hallway.

Hermione haphazardly plopped herself down on her bed in the infirmary. She placed her head in her hands, and began to sob, gut wrenching cries pouring out of her.

'_I trusted you_,' she said into her hands, covering her face and her mouth. 'I TRUSTED you!' she yelled, looking directly at Severus, her face full of pain as she heaved with each sob emitted from her tiny frame.

'_Leave_,' Severus stated solemnly, still focusing his gaze on the young woman, his command for the four individuals in front of him. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by a hand on his shoulder from Minerva McGonagle.

'We…we will wait for you in my office, Severus…' the older witch stated quietly, hurrying the other three individuals out of the room, pausing to take a final glance at the young woman sitting helplessly on the edge of the bed before exiting the hospital wing.

The Potions Professor slowly entered the room without saying another word, letting the four individuals pass by him.

He stepped carefully, purposefully over the scattered pieces of wood within the doorway, his feet crunching over some of the glass left on the floor from the shattered jar of cotton balls.

He stood directly in front of Hermione, watching her tears of anguish fall about her beautiful face, her body forcing sobs of agony to surface.

Severus sat down gently on the bed, sitting directly in front of her. He studied her for a few moments, before slowly taking his hands, carefully placing them on each side of her face, and gently propping her head up to look at him.

Her sobs subsided somewhat, as she looked with bloodshot eyes into his dark orbs.

Without words, Severus took a moment to regard her pain-filled eyes, and then carefully wrapped his long arms around her form, holding her close. She did not return his embrace.

Severus closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, a look of sincere worry on his face.

He didn't want it to be true. Did not _think _it was true…until he saw it for himself. Saw the _aftermath_ of it all. For what the Dark Lord had said, had heard prophesized, evidently was true after all. She was being watched all this time, all these years, for not only her protection, but for _their_ protection as well. For Hermione Granger was still a powerful, _powerful_ witch; and if she did not obtain a way to render her emotions under control, even at this time when she was most vulnerable, she would be a danger to herself, to those at Hogwarts, and as to the contrary, seen as a powerful ally for the Dark Lord and his purpose.

It was for this reason that Severus brought her to Hogwarts. He was afraid of something like this: what he had just witnessed. It was as if performing the Avada curse on herself had somehow awakened _something _inside of her; something more powerful than anyone, even the Dark Lord, could have expected.

Severus continued to hold the quietly sobbing young woman, her arms lying haphazardly against the soft blanket below.

The instant Severus felt Hermione begin to quiet, he released his hold from her. She kept her head down, one hand reaching up to support the heavy weight of her head.

'_What's wrong with me_,' she asked quietly, voice cracking slightly, not bothering to look up at the man still seated next to her on the bed.

Severus did not offer an answer. Instead, he took one final look at the young woman, and stood up slowly, standing next to her.

'When you have…_collected _yourself, you are to meet me in my office. The location has not changed. I surmise that you remember where it is still located, after all these years,' he stated softly, eyebrows slightly raised, studying her form.

With her head still in her hand, Hermione closed her eyes and gave a silent nod.

Acknowledging her reply, Severus began his exit towards the hospital wing, when all of sudden he heard a tiny voice from in back of him:

'_Thank you_,' Hermione muttered, her head raised slightly, arms now at her side, as she gazed once gain at the bright blue sky through the large window in the infirmary.

The Potions Professor paused in his tracks for only a moment, his back still towards Hermione, and silently regarded her reply. He inhaled, and exhaled deeply. He strode towards the exit, his footsteps echoing in the castle as he made his way down the marble steps. The others would have to wait for him…and for _her_. They would wait patiently, quietly, talking amongst themselves regarding what they had just seen…what they had just experienced.

But for now, Severus would wait for the young woman. The woman he wanted so desperately to protect; a woman who was unpredictable, and evidently stronger and more powerful than he, or anyone else could have predicted.

At least there was one thing he was certain of; one thing that he kept only to himself:

He was in his heart, fully content knowing that Doctor Hermione Granger was, at this very moment, after _all_ these years, finally _home_…


	13. Chapter 13

Hearing the quickly fading, ghostly echoes of the Potions Master's feet die away with each purposeful step, Hermione Granger inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if all the world's weight were now contained within her tiny chest cavity.

She slowly picked up her head, relieving it from the sweaty palm of her hand, and closed her eyes. Shutting them tightly, and pausing to scratch a pesky itch above her right eyebrow, Hermione slowly reopened her eyes.

She took a brief moment to survey the area, and was utterly stunned at what she saw.

Shards of glass and strewn cotton-balls littered the floor only feet away from where she was seated. The doors, or what could be _made _of doors to the infirmary were severely misaligned, and Hermione noted scattered pieces of cracked and splintered wood located in and around the entrance to the now empty hospital wing.

It took a few moments to assess the apparent damage, when suddenly Hermione had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She remembered how angry, how absolutely _furious _she was for being brought back to Hogwarts. How she became livid at the sight of the four individuals that had stood before her. How she was never, _ever_ supposed to see this place, or these _people _again. And then Hermione remembered yelling, screaming at them, and losing _all _control of her emotions.

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat.

She had done this. She had caused this mess in the hospital wing. The wood, the glass…it was _her_…

And most frightening of all, was that the young woman had _no _idea how or why she was able to do what damage she had done.

Hermione was disgusted with herself. That much was certain. She bit the inside of her cheek in frustration, as a million thoughts battled with each other in her mind.

Fed up with her actions, she placed her gaze towards the head of the bed, away from the mess she had created.

A rather wobbly-looking wooden chair sat next to the bed; neatly placed on it were a pair of dark blue jeans, a faded plain black t-shirt, a soft gray cardigan, and a pair of worn out navy trainers, with a pair of socks carefully stuffed in each one. Gathering that the clothes were meant for _her _(obviously she would not be staying in these pajamas all day, though she would not have minded…)Hermione sighed inwardly, and eased up off of the bed.

With her mouth forming a tight line she slowly undressed and redressed, placing each article of clothing on as carefully as she could, tying each shoe so tightly, so _perfectly_, that she would not be surprised if her feet lost all circulation. She stood with her back straight, head aligned with her body, and stood perfectly still.

The only thing that separated her from the entire rest of the castle was but twelve steps or so. Not _nearly_ enough for Hermione's taste. Still, she willed herself to begin moving, and she felt her feet walk one by one, so very cautiously over the glass and wooden remnants, the crunching and crackling unmistakable under each well-placed step.

Before she knew it, Hermione had arrived just outside the entrance to the infirmary and was faced with a rather large soft-colored marblestaircase. She blinked once, and took a moment to slowly tilt her head up, noting the various creaks and groans of the other well-sized staircases that moved slowly and heavily, swinging slowly from one floor to another with such precision. Hermione sighed, and closed her eyes, shaking her head from side-to-side in the process.

The young woman began to walk down the staircase before her, her shoes making small muffled _thuds_ on each passing step. The pictures and portraits lining the grand staircase were watching her, some with gigantic smiles, others with look of utter confusion. Scattered whispers could be heard echoing about the area, and Hermione suddenly crossed her arms about herself, feeling ever the slightest bit more defensive amidst the quiet chatter. A few portraits would express their happiness with jolly salutations, pleased to see a most welcomed alumna of the school return. In return, Hermione gave tight, small smiles and gentle nods, saying nothing to the portraits surrounding her, as she maintained her focus on making her way to the dungeons to meet with her old Potion's Professor.

Hermione's feet finally hit the solid ground of the first floor of the Castle, and suddenly the young woman stopped in her tacks. Her eyes focused on a massive room to the left of her, and turning her head to meet her peripheral gaze, Hermione inadvertently paused to take a peek at the Great Hall – a room she had once remembered _oh _so well…

After all these years, it still looked the same. The vast ceiling, wide piercing windows, unlit dark fireplaces, and worn wooden benches and tables, were all _too _familiar…

Hermione sighed, as nostalgia washed over her. With no students or staff inside the Hall, it looked empty. _Too _empty. Hermione scrunched up her nose. For a moment, for the briefest moment, she pictured the three of them sitting, talking, eating, working at these tables. How she had loved to sit at the bench, staring up into the bewitched ceiling. Silently, she snickered to herself. She felt like a fool. A fool for being once so happy…

Hermione turned to her right and continued down the steps, softly stepping down each step as she made her way further down into the depths of the castle. She felt coolness begin to surround her, breathed in the semi-damp and musty atmosphere that was the beginning of the dungeons, and subconsciously rubbed her arms with her hands as she felt the prickle of goose bumps arise on her skin. The hallway was dark, lit with torches here and there; their flames casting silent dancing shadows on the cracked and barren walls.

Alas, the young woman eventually found herself directly in front of the Potions Master's classoom. Severus Snape was correct – Hermione remembered _exactly _where she was going; though her mind wandered for the duration of the entire trip, her feet knew just where to lead her.

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She stood looking at the shabby wooden door for a few moments, listening to her breathing, before gaining the courage to make her presence known. Hermione extended a slender arm upwards, her sweater showing just the slightest bit of skin, and softly knocked three times. A few seconds lapsed after the knocking, the sound echoing off the walls of the dungeon.

Suddenly, Hermione heard from the other side of the door, a distinct voice utter only a single command:

…_Enter_…

His voice sent chills down her spine. Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. Her initial emotion was one of fear, of nervousness. But that wave quickly passed into one of annoyance. She was ready to get this so-called meeting over and done with, so that, in her mind, she could leave the castle. However that may be…

Grasping the handle tightly and with a heavy push, the young woman opened the door to the Potions classroom, hearing the hinges _groan_ in response. She closed the door behind her, and took a moment to inhale the scents of the dungeon. Burnt wood, nutmeg, leather; all types of scents flooded Hermione's nasal passage, and gave way to flashes of memories. Memories of long ago, when she _herself_ was a student in this very room.

Hermione glanced around the empty room, her chocolate-brown eyes darting back and forth. After scanning the entire area: empty work stations, filled-herb jars, stacks of medium-sized kettles, Hermione came to a sudden conclusion: Severus Snape was evidently n_ot_ in this room. However, the young woman noticed that the door adjacent to the classroom was indeed wide open, signaling that there was a good chance that the Professor was in his office.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, as she slowly approached the other side of the classroom. Taking one careful step after another, the young woman suddenly found herself at the entrance to the Potions Master's office, and raised her eyes upward to focus on the tall figure standing only feet away from her.

Severus Snape had his back towards Hermione. He was standing ever still, dressed in all black with his arms crossed, staring at a row of about twenty or so dust-covered empty bottles lined neatly on a rickety shelf in back of his desk. Two dark wooden chairs were positioned directly in front of his desk; a desk that was relatively empty, except for a gray-colored quill, two steaming cups of liquid in dark gray tea cups, and a worn-looking wooden wand lying between those cups.

Hermione frowned and swallowed, her mouth dry as cotton. It was _her _wand on the table…

The young woman took it upon herself to sit in one of the chairs in front of Snape's desk. She sat down slowly, perched on the edge of her seat as it made a slight _creaking_ noise, and folded her hands neatly in her lap, chewing the inside of her cheek so hard she drew blood, her saliva now having a slight iron-like taste to it.

'Peppermint,' called Severus' voice ever so quietly, his back still facing her, '-it is _peppermint_ tea…' he added, as if answering one of many questions already brewing in Hermione's mind.

The young woman quietly cleared her throat.

'Oh…_thank you_,' Hermione said quietly, dare not reaching for the cup of liquid in front of her, but instead staying ever still, evidently expecting the unexpected. She remained defensive, yet utterly alert. Should anything…_happen_, she wanted to be able to defend herself, to run, to escape.

Severus sighed and closed his eyes. Opening them, he turned around slowly, taking a seat at his desk across from Hermione. He too was perched on the edge of his seat, and avoided her eyes that stared at him from across the desk. With a blind yet careful hand, he slowly and ever so discretely felt for an object in his right hand pocket, making sure his wand was still safely tucked away. It's not that he _didn't _trust the young woman in front of him; he just wanted to be prepared, in case _any_ situations like the one upstairs occurred…

Severus suddenly met the eyes of the woman seated in front of him.

'_Your wand_...,' he gestured quietly, eyebrows slightly raised, nodding with his head towards the still object while taking a brief moment for himself to look at the intact piece of wood before him.

'_I know_…,' Hermione added softly yet definitively, not knowing exactly what to say in response. She did not want it. Did not want_ any_ of this. She wished she would have never touched the damn thing in the first place, and yet here it was. Staring her right in the face, as if mocking her.

'You can hold on to it for…for awhile, _if you'd like_…' the young woman stammered quietly, looking at her hands in her lap, hoping in all hopes that the Potions Master would take the piece of wood and bury it deep in the ground somewhere. Out of sight, out of mind…

Severus raised an eyebrow.

'You do not want it?'' inquired the Potions Master, looking suspiciously at the woman before him.

Hermione looked at the wand, as if speaking to the inanimate object in a direct manner.

'It's not…it's not that I _don't_ want it…well, perhaps that _is _true, but…but more importantly, I…I don't believe…_I do not trust myself with it_…' Hermione said in a now gentle tone, trying as best she could to hide the worry and apprehension in her voice.

Severus' mouth formed a tight line.

'That is a wise thing to say, Miss Granger. However…you can…and _will _learn to use your wand again. There is no question. You will learn how to control your magic…not let it control _you_…,' Severus added in a most serious tone, looking at Hermione.

'Yes, but-,' Hermione interrupted, looking directly into Severus' dark eyes. She smirked, scuffing at his last statement '-but if I can't even control _myself_, I mean…well you _saw_ what happened up there…I can't…clearly, I just _can't_ do it!…' the young woman said in a frustrated tone.

Hermione began to peel away at a cuticle on her thumb, and moments later looked down to see a small droplet of semi-dried blood that had formed beside her nail bed. Evidently she had been subconsciously peeling away at her nail so vigorously, that she was unaware it had begun to bleed.

'I don't even know if I _want_ to do it…' she added softly, letting her pain skim the surface of her emotions, still keeping watch on her thumb as her eyes began to prickle with salty tears; tears that would, evidently, not be shed. Her jaw clenched as she reminded herself to keep on the defense, willing herself to stay alert in case a swift exit was necessary.

Severus blinked slowly, focusing ever intently on his former student. He inhaled deeply, and stood up from his seat in a fluid motion. Severus slowly walked around his desk towards Hermione, his feet making audible echoes within the walls of his office. Pausing to look down at the girl, he slowly sat down in the wooden chair next to Hermione, angling himself so he was only feet away from her. He reminded himself to choose his words wisely. If he wanted her to stay, he had to be oh so careful. Though she could pose a possible threat to all that surrounded her, she would prove to be most _useful-_ that he was certain. And he was more that willing to do anything he could, to make her want to stay in the castle…

'What if, Miss Granger…' Severus spoke in an almost inaudible tone, '-Hermione,' he called, willing the young woman to look up at him, the slightest hint of tears welling in her eyes as he tried desperately to read the hardened look upon her face.

'What if I were to make a promise to you…a promise that I would do my best to help you…to help you _control_, to _understand_…will you accept?' Severus asked in a most composed voice, his words flooding her mind as Hermione struggled with her thoughts, not knowing what to do or say next.

Hermione looked at Severus with a stone-like expression on her face.

'I…I don't know if I can…_I told you that_,' she whispered, her eyebrows creased, showing forth the suffering and frustration upon her face.

Severus took a moment to regard her reply.

'Please…' he begged quietly. 'If in time, it does not work, then you are free to leave and do as you wish. But for now…for the time being, will you…promise to attempt what you have feared…?' he asked, pausing to shift his eyes downward at the small spot of blood on Hermione's thumb.

The young woman followed his gaze, now too peering down once again at the blood stained finger.

A minute of silence before Hermione stated her well- thought-out reply.

'If…,' Hermione began, willing her words to come through her thick voice, '-if it does not…_work_, then I leave. No one is to follow me. Or check up on me. You are to let me be-' she added in a defiant tone, now looking up into Severus' eyes:

'Especially _you_,' she added, her words stinging as she looked directly into the eyes of the man across from her.

Severus' mouth formed a tight line, and he nodded solemnly, a silent acknowledgement to her most recent statement.

'If that is what you wish, then it shall be honored,' the Potions Master added in an equally defiant tone.

Moments passed between the two, when all of a sudden, Hermione snorted. Laughing sarcastically, and taking a hand to rub one of her tired eyes, she looked up at the baffled expression on Severus' face.

'Do you really think I'm that hopeless? Do…you think it...that I'm beyond help? That maybe, just maybe this was all truly a mistake – you bringing me…bringing me back, here…' she firmly stated, looking at Severus.

Hermione could not be further from the truth…

The Potions Master scowled slightly, angered at her words. How…_dare_ she render herself useless. If only she knew how much she was valued. How much she mattered…

Severus' eyes narrowed.

'You are _not_ hopeless. This was _not _a mistake. This is where you _ought_ to be, Hermione,' he said quietly. 'I am not here to make you forget the past…I am here to help you continue your life, _wherever that may take you_…' he added, a touch of undetectable sadness in his voice. While he did promise his help in return for her safety, he was, even in the slightest bit, concerned that this was not going to work. As stubborn as he was, Severus Snape would not utter the words that were ready to slip off of his tongue at any moment; the words that ached in his heart, yet he would not utter:

_Severus was desperately afraid of losing her_…

Suddenly, a pair of emerald eyes poked through the fireplace, followed by a messy tuft of hair, a pair of uneven spectacles, and one quite unmistakable scar.

'Erm…' Harry interrupted, not knowing quite what to make of the site before him. 'We, ugh…we just wanted to know if you were still coming up to the –'

Severus quickly turned his head to look at the green-glowing fireplace.

'We shall be up there within moments, Potter,' Severus sneered, obviously displeased at Harry's interruption, as he scowled with an automatic distaste into the fireplace at the Boy Who Lived.

'Erm…right…well, we are all waiting,' Harry added, an equal look of disproval as he stared at Severus. The two looked at each other for several moments before Harry disappeared, and the room was still once again.

Severus stood up and extended a warm hand to Hermione. Instinctively, she shrank back, clenching her fingers into fists. She was not eager to be confronted by so many people – those apparently now waiting for her somewhere in the castle.

As if sensing her apprehension, Severus spoke calmly to her.

'I'm not going to hurt you. _They_ aren't going to hurt you. Besides, I think at this point they are more afraid of _you_, than you are of _them_,' he added as an afterthought, with just a touch of humor, smirking slightly at the young woman.

Hermione frowned, looking at the man standing in front of her. She reluctantly took hold of his hand, and he led her to the fireplace on the far side of his desk. Her had was ice cold, Severus noted. _If only she wasn't so stubborn – she should have had a few sips of the tea_, he thought to himself. Without a single word, and with hands still clasped, Hermione heard the words, '_Headmisstress' Quarters'_ bellowed, as Severus grabbed a handful of floo powder. The two disappeared from the office within an instant.

A second later, the pair stood within the frame of the fireplace located in Headmistress Minerva McGonagle's office. Hermione was surprised to note that her hand previously held by the Potion's Master was now free, and dangled loosely by her side. Even more surprising was the room within which she was standing.

Sweet smelling, bright colored flowers decorated the room, bright balloons hung here and there, and perhaps most surprising was a huge banner hung over Professor McGonagle's desk. In large golden letters, it read a simple beautifully scripted sentence that held a world of truth:

'_Welcome Home, Hermione!_'

Hermione gulped, her eyes growing large as she willed her rapid-beating heart to calm down. Eyes stared at here, waiting for the young woman to say something. Anything. Hermione was, evidently speechless.

This is _not, _what she expected. Not at all….


	14. Chapter 14

A week after Hermione had a miscarriage, she found herself back at work, productive as ever, just as if _nothing _had ever happened. It was at that time, when a young woman, younger than herself, had come into the office complaining of recurrent nausea and vomiting, as well as dizziness, severe at times. Being a skilled Physician, as Hermione undeniably was, she took one look at the woman and felt her stomach sink to her knees. Even without a blood test, the young Doctor could have told the girl what was causing her symptoms.

Trying her best to keep her composure, Hermione put on a mask of happiness and slapped a grin on her face, as she told her patient that she was pregnant. Her heart ached, and she felt like slamming the door in the young woman's face. But this did not matter. It was neither proper, nor professional. So Hermione did what she knew best these days. She pretended, fooled, acted her way out of her misery. She became quite skilled at it, diving even more into her work, becoming somewhat of a recluse, yet available both physically and emotionally to her patients. Why? Because she _had _to. There was no other choice.

And now, Hermione stood within the thick walls of Hogwarts Castle. Silently gazing in fear at the ever-cautious eyes of those surrounding her. Eyes that were hoping for the young woman to jump up and down in glee, thanking them for their hard work, being incredibly joyous and grateful for bringing her home. And it is because of this, that Hermione had a very difficult time deciding which emotion to show forth. She did not want to disappoint. Did not want to hurt their feelings.

If it was up to her, and if there were completely_ no_ reservations about her actions, she would tear the banner down, take pride in popping each and every balloon, and walk out of the room without another word.

This however, to Hermione's standards, was reasonablyinappropriate. It would be rude. _And _ungrateful. And even though the young woman wanted to, with every part of her being, walk right out of that room and out of their lives, something kept her there. Something that was not physical, something that could not be seen, something that could only be felt.

…_It was love._

She saw it on all of their faces. In their smiles. In their eyes.

It was, without doubt, incredibly undeniable, and Hermione wished to god that she had not picked up on it so soon. It made her feel even worse. She was torn between acting and pretending that she was ecstatic in regards to the ever-festive setting, yet she wanted them to see the real '_her_.' The '_her_' that was hurting. The '_her_' that was still terribly mournful. The '_her_' that truly wanted to let herself love and _be_ loved in return.

Hermione quickly decided that there had to be a happy medium between the two. At least for now. She did not realize exactly _when_ in the midst of all this excitement she had placed her hand on her mouth, but she lowered it slowly, in attempts to finally speak to those in the room.

'I…erm…' Hermione stammered, pausing to clear her throat and placing her arms tightly about her body, '-I…th…thanks for…thank you for all of…_this_,' she said as she continued gazing about the room, her voice somewhat void of emotion as she tried to remain optimistic and appreciative in regards to their hard work.

Molly Weasley smiled an even bigger smile. Her eyes squinted, and her rosy cheeks showed forth two symmetrical dimples on either side.

Harry was the first to speak.

'Mione,' he began, his emerald eyes glistening in the sunlight, '-we didn't know…I mean we had _hoped_ you'd like it…but if you don't that's OK too…' he said, his hands stretched out slightly.

Hermione's brows creased.

'No, Harry, I mean…I do li-…you all must have put forth_ a lot _of time doing this,' she finally stammered. At least she was telling the truth. With all of the immaculate coordination in colors and flower arranging, it _wa_s pure brilliance.

Harry kept grinning.

'Hermione,' Minerva McGonagle beamed, as she walked closer towards Hermione. The Headmistress kept her distance, yet slowly approached the young woman, finally standing a few distant feet from her. _Wise choice_, thought Hermione.

'We had hoped that you would…_stay_. At least for awhile,' the Headmistress offered, looking curiously at the young woman for any sign that she would agree to staying put in the castle.

Hermione's mouth went dry. She, at that very moment, did not know what to say. Though she had agreed in private to 'try,' it was a simple promise. A promise, like all promises, that could be _so_ easily broken. Instinctively, she dug her nails into the palm of her hands, as her arms were still wrapped about her form.

A few moments passed before Hermione had finally willed herself to give a reply.

'Erm…_well,_' Hermione said quietly, scuffing her trainers on the floor ever so slightly, as Hermione paused to stare intently at the tightly bowed string on top of her left shoe.

Severus rolled his eyes.

'Miss Granger will _indeed _stay. At least for now,' he added, looking straight at the Headmistress, obviously annoyed at the young woman's verbal incompetence.

Hermione snapped her head up and glared at the Potions Master. Her nostrils flared, as she felt heat beginning to creep up her chest into her neck and face. She could not believe what she was hearing! _How…dare he! How dare he speak for me_!, she thought to herself.

Just then, Severus noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a glass goblet begin to teeter ever so slightly on the desk of Professor McGonagle. It started out as a simple tilt and began to increase in speed, just ever so slightly. Immediately, he looked at Hermione, who matched his gaze. Severus lowered his eyes, a deadly scowl creeping upon his sallow face.

Hermione froze.

…_And interestingly enough, so did the glass_…

'Well, Hermione – that is…it's the most.._oh_ this is just wonderful!' Molly Weasley jubilantly exclaimed her words of joy, as she rushed over and crushed Hermione in a giant hug. Hermione stood for a moment, not exactlysure what to do. Or how to act. It had been a very, _very_ long time since she had been hugged that tightly. While it did feel nice to receive a genuine embrace, Hermione felt her chest cavity begin to slowly close in on itself. A feeling that was becoming increasingly unpleasant.

The young Doctor managed to take her right arm, and gently pat the back of the woman hugging her. Hermione smiled nervously.

'There, there…it's…Molly, yes I'm…OK, well I'm going to…' Hermione stammered, as she mouthed a silent _'Help Me'_ to Harry, who was standing in the background, showing forth a most goofy grin.

'There there, Molly – I think we've…you've done _quite_ enough,' Arthur Weasly said through small chuckles, as he struggled to pry his wife off of Hermione.

Severus cleared his throat. He had to admit, it was just a hint _amusing_ to see the young woman so uncomfortable, being held captive by her once Mother-in-Law. But there were, truth be told, greater matters at hand. The last thing Severus wanted was to lose precious time.

'We must be off. There is much to do, much to arrange, and much work to get accomplished,' he bellowed in a single breath, looking at the Headmistress, his mouth forming a tight line.

'Very well, Severus. We shall see you,' Minerva Mcgonagle paused to turn her gaze upon Hermione, showing forth a grateful smile, '- and _you_ at supper this evening in the Great Hall.'

Those words made Hermione's heart skip a beat. It had been years since she was back here, yet alone shared a _meal _with everyone…

The young woman offered a curt smile, and a silent nod in return. A sign she would be joining them. _Like I have a choice_, Hermione thought to herself…

From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see her old Potions Professor turn swiftly, and open the door. He nodded in the direction of the descending steps, and he extended an arm, signaling that she should walk in front of him. Hermione rolled her eyes, and frowned in response.

The two walked down the steps in silence, their shoes providing the only noise within the staircase leading down to the main hallway of the floor. Hermione walked at a moderate pace. Severus did the same. Once Hermione reached the main floor, she turned around abruptly, glaring up at the man in front of her.

'You didn't let me speak for myself!' she said defiantly, still holding onto the apparent grudge she had concocted for herself up in the Headmistress' Quarters. 'Why…why would you _do_ that?' she demanded, eager for an explanation. 'Do you think I am not even _capable_ of answering for myself?!' she demanded.

Without a word, Severus kept walking, bypassing her. His eyes narrowed, as one corner of his lip drew up in obvious distaste.

'_You_ did not offer an answer_. I, _on the other hand, _did_. Besides, lord knows what would have come out of that mouth of yours. Your brain is working a mile a minute,' he added as an afterthought, visibly annoyed that she had taken too long to form a reply upstairs.

Hermione's eyes widened.

'You…you still had _no right_ to do that!' she yelled at him, as he continued down the hall without her, her feet still planted firmly on the ground.

Severus stopped in his tracks.

_Still stubborn as ever, _he thought to himself. Severus closed his eyes, sighed, and reopened them.

He turned around slowly, taking note that they were now feet apart from each other.

'Would you have said _no _to them?' he asked quietly, his eyebrows slightly raised. 'Would you have honestly told them no, when you told me you had promised to at least _try_? You would have _lied _to them?' he continued to speak, as he looked at her from down the hall, his face void of emotion.

Hermione swallowed. He had her there.

Of course she wouldn't have lied. Not like _that _at least. If only she and Severus hadn't talked before time; if only they hadn't made a bargain before they met up with the others. If only…

And all of a sudden the young woman made a _very _important connection. Hermione's eyes widened and shifted in thought, then abruptly narrowed. She gritted her teeth, and began to stride very carefully, very stealth-like towards the tall man in front of her.

'_You knew,_' she sneered, feeling a sense of betrayal rise in her. 'You did this on _purpose_. You made…you made me _promise _to stay before seeing all of them there, because…because you _knew,_ that if _they_ would have asked me, I would have said _no_!' her voice echoed in the most deadliest of tones, furious at her old Professor, her right index finger raised, pointing up at him, the petite digit trembling ever so slightly.

Severus closed his eyes slowly, and reopened them. Staring into her pain-filled eyes, he spoke to her.

'They why did you tell me '_yes_?', he asked in the most deadly of tones, secretly anxious for a reply.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. Almost instantly, she felt her breathing quicken, and her heart beat faster. For a few moments, moments that seemed like hours, they stood silent and still, looking at one another.

'Because,' she said, her voice beginning to crack. 'Because, you…_you are_-' Hermione began to utter softly, looking right into the dark eyes of the man in front of her, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of feet running down the steps from the Headmistress' office. Hermione instinctively stepped away from Severus, and turned her body towards the louder growing sounds.

'Hey!' said Harry, as he looked with concern at Hermione, finally making his way down the steps. 'You OK, 'Mione? I heard yelling,' he said, justifying his interruption, as he stood in front of the young woman, panting slightly.

Hermione winced, pausing to close her eyes tightly and rub an imaginary itch above her left eyebrow.

'Yeah…yeah I'm alright, Harry. _Just fine_,' she added, a mixed look of annoyance and relief on her face. Her response was less than convincing; something that Harry picked up on immediately.

Harry turned towards Severus.

'Sp, did you tell her where she'll be staying?' he asked the Potions Master, an obvious look of mistrust masking Harry's face.

Severus' nostrils flared slightly, and glared at Harry with pure irritation.

'Of course not, Potter. Do you see how far we have traveled? If it weren't for Miss Granger _interrogating_ me for the past few moments,' he added, pausing to look down at the young woman '-_she_ would have been there already.'

Hermione's eyes widened, as she once again gritted her teeth. _Unbelieveable_, she thought to herself. _Just fucking unbelievable_…

'Well, in that case – 'Mione?' Harry asked, offering an arm to the woman next to him, '-let me show you to your rooms,' he said in a gentle tone, offering the kindest of gestures, yet unsure if she would agree to it.

Hermione looked up at Harry. Ever so slowly, she took his arm, much to Harry's delight, and without another word, the two of them were off in the opposite direction, away from the Potions Master.

Severus watched the man and woman walking slowly down the hall. Potter striding with utmost confidence and assurance. Hermione, walking ever so carefully, painfully aware of her surroundings.

The Potions Master sighed. He ached for an answer to why she agreed to try. She had almost told him, almost given him a reply. _If Potter wouldn't have gotten in the way_, Severus thought to himself, _we may have actually attained some form of progress. Leave it to the Boy Wonder to fuck things up when he believes he his being righteous…_

Severus rolled his eyes. At any rate, he would be seeing Hermione at supper that evening. That left him a few hours to begin to devise a plan for her. A plan that would, by god's graces, be successful. He turned, and began walking quickly down the pale marble steps, heading in the direction of the dungeons.

Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione were walking up a flight of steps in the main hallway. Pictures and portraits could once again be heard projecting their various greetings and well wishes. Harry was beaming inside. If he could, he would scoop up his friend in his arms, give her a crushing hug, and ask her to accompany him for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron to catch up and reminisce about old times. This was, by far, _completely_ out of the question. At this point, at least. Still, she held his arm, which was by Harry's view, a form of even the slightest bit of trust on her point. Even if she said nothing, he was happy. She was here. And he was grateful.

Eventually the pair made it to the top of the staircase, leading them to the fifth floor corridor. The hall was empty, quiet, yet let forth a great deal of sunlight, coming from the arched windows within the walls. Hermione inhaled deeply. It smelled of lavendar, dust, and leather. An odd combination, this was undeniable. But Hermione, none-the-less, closed her eyes for a brief moment, let her guard down completely, and allowed her mind to process the ever-familiar scents of the hallway that lie before her.

Harry sensed her inner-peace almost immediately. He watched her inhale, and close her eyes. Her arm fell slightly limp, and he smiled sadly at her. Oh, what he wouldn't give to see her happy, carefree once again…

There were many available rooms in the castle. But this particular room, located on this particular floor, was of indeed _most_ importance for a few reasons. While Hermione was still…_recovering_ up in the hospital wing that morning, the five witches and wizards gathered outside of the hospital wing, to discuss what should happen in the event that Hermione agreed to stay at the castle.

It was, in the end, decided that Hermione would stay on the fifth floor of the castle. Down one side of the corridor, right in fact adjacent to Hermione's room, was a staircase that led the shortest distance from Gryffindor Tower to said floor. It is for this reason alone, that Harry wanted Hermione to reside there. Since he was now head of Gryffindor, the fifth floor would at least be quickly accessible, should he need to reach her in the event of an emergency.

The fourth floor held Hogwarts' library. It was Headmistress Minerva McGonagle's idea that Hermione be placed at least one floor either up or below this area. Professor McGonagle wanted Hermione (if she was willing to stay, that is…) to be close to the things she had held most dear once long ago.

And perhaps the most important reason, at least to Professor Snape, that is, to have Hermione stay at the castle, resided on the first floor. It was a place that, he knew in his heart, Hermione was going to find her 'home away from home.' _She just didn't know it yet_…

Hermione reopened her eyes, and squinted. There were doorframes on either side of the hallway, some wide open, some only opened a slight crack, while others appeared closed completely. Harry nudged the young woman forward ever so gently, and Hermione was abruptly brought out of her thoughts.

They walked calmly and carefully to the end of the hallway, where a closed door stood in front of them. Harry and Hermione stopped directly in front of the shabby piece of wood, unlocked arms, and slowly turned facing each other.

'Well, 'Mione,' Harry said a bit sheepishly, pausing to scratch the back of his head, '-this…this is it. Your room. Or _rooms_, I guess I should say,' he added with a chuckle, his green eyes glistening in the warm light.

Hermione gave a small smile, and looked down at her shoes.

Harry's face fell slightly, and he backed away in the direction of the stairs adjacent to Hermione's door.

'Well, erm…I'll…I'll be off now. I guess. These steps – I'm the first door at the top. All the way up, in the Tower. Our Tower- ' Harry paused, closing his eyes, and placing his hands in his pockets. '-I mean, _Gryffindor _Tower. This is the closest way for me to get to you…I mean, if you need me, that is. Don't wanna make it sound like I'm going to be stalking you or anything,' he added dryly, quietly laughing at his statement.

Hermione snorted. She knew they would be watching her. She was, evidently, a flight risk.

'Well..see you later then,' Harry said softly, turning to walk up the steps behind him. Hermione turned to face the door, tightly closed her eyes, and sharply turned her head in the direction of the boy walking up the steps.

'Harry,' Hermione's voice echoed within the empty hall.

Harry quickly turned towards Hermione, halting in his ascend, his eyes wide as he waited in anticipation for her to speak to him.

'I…erm…I…_thank you_,' she finally murmured. She offered him a small, grateful smile. She was truly appreciative for his kind offer and sweet gesture.

Harry grinned in return.

'You're welcome. _Always_…,' he added sadly, as he looked fondly upon his old friend.

Hermione turned around and focused once again on the door in front of her, hearing Harry's diminishing steps in the background. She took a deep breath, held it for a second or so, and let it out. Grasping the tarnished, silver-colored knob with a warm, sweaty hand, she turned the knob, and opened the door ever so slowly.

The young woman let the door open all the way, hearing a groan from the hinges as it swung.

Hermione's eyes widened. Her breath caught in her chest. And for the first time, she gave forth a wide toothy smile that could simply not be contained. She entered the room and put her hand on her chest. Feeling the tears brim the surface of her lids, she put her hand upwards towards her mouth.

_I don't believe it…I really don't believe it…_ she whispered to herself, the tears still prickling in her eyes.

It was as if her house had been moved to the castle. Everything: from the carefully strewn magazines on the coffee table, to the tiny yellow-flowered dots on the kitchen curtains – it was _hers_. They had managed to do something wonderful, something that she had missed, something that she had loved:

…They had brought home _to_ her…


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione slowly and cautiously entered into her 'new' room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her mouth formed a silent 'O' as she continued to stare wide-eyed at the objects that surround her. Everything was so _oddly_ familiar. A mixture of pure joy, coupled with a twinge of sadness enveloped her, as she reminisced about her old home.

Her living room was the same as she remembered it. The wooden floors to the smell of lemon furniture polish – it was all how it was before. Hermione continued walking ever so carefully into the next room. She poked her head in the doorway to find a small, quaint kitchen area. Even her favorite teacup was sitting out on the counter. She found the bathroom, complete with her ever-familiar soft bathrobe, and finally the bedroom. Her bed, her comforter, her clock – all were complete replicas of the ones she had at her old home. The young woman smiled and closed her eyes. Gently, she sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning the entire bedroom. Looking down at the clock, Hermione noticed something behind the clock – a picture frame poking out. With her left hand, Hermione carefully took hold of the heavy, pewter frame, and gazed upon the picture. It was a photograph of the three of them – Harry, Ron, and Hermione, upon their graduation day at Hogwarts. Standing perfectly together, smiling happily, as if they hadn't a care in the world.

Hermione closed her eyes and put the frame to her chest. She bent her torso forward, ever so slightly, and all of a sudden felt a wave of sadness that she had not felt in a very,_ very_ long time.

Her heart hurt.

She was jealous of the 'old' Hermione in the picture – the young woman who was so lively, energetic, full of knowledge and care. And here she was: an awfully confused twenty-something year old woman, with no husband, no family, no home. What did she do to deserve this? How was all of this even the least bit _fair_?

The young woman closed her eyes tightly, and while still bent over, felt the sadness consume her. Hermione's sobs were ones of sadness, not anger. Her heart filled with sorrow, as all of a sudden it dawned on her how her life had panned out to present day. Hermione laid down on her left side, her head softly hitting the pillow, as she continued to tightly hold onto the picture frame. Her cries eventually soothed her, as she fell into a deep sleep, purely exhausted both physically and emotionally.

It was the sweet sound of a Brahms symphony that initially woke Hermione. She stayed still, listening to the beautiful melodic phrases of one of the movements, as she carefully peeked at the clock on her nightstand with her right eye. The clock had a little 'alarm' sign lit up – Hermione figured that the clock had been purposefully set to wake her in time for supper. _Much better than that annoying beeping sound I was used to, _she thought to herself.

The young woman stretched in bed, and though she was just a tad disoriented from her slumber, Hermione noted that by the clock's reading it was indeed time for supper. For the slightest moment, she was disillusioned into thinking that she was actually home; that this was her _actual _bedroom. But few seconds later, it hit her in the pit of her stomach.

She frowned.

_Cruel, _she thought to herself, _just cruel_…

Hermione stretched her neck to look out at a window that was located on one side of the bedroom. The sun was beginning to set, just ever so slightly. She had a clear view of the dense and dark forbidden forest. And interestingly enough, of the aged-looking womping willow, which clearly kept up its haggard appearance after all these years.

Hermione sat up in bed, and scratched the top of her head. She absentmindedly plopped the photograph next to her on the bed, as she yawned and stretched out the upper portion of her body. She looked down, examining her attire. Her clothes were a littlewrinkled. Hermione frowned in obvious displeasure and sat up off the bed. Looking towards the one side of the bedroom, she walked over to her dresser, and out of pure curiosity opened one of the drawers. Again, it was just like home. Her same clothes were here, in the same order, folded in the same fashion. Hermione had no idea who had done all of this, but she made a mental note to find out. She would have to politely thank them later.

The young woman walked into her living room, and surveyed the area. _Just like home_, she thought to herself, _…but it's not,_ she quickly reminded herself. Hermione subconsciously gritted her teeth behind closed lips. She could feel herself getting frustrated, but willed herself to keep calm. _At least for now_.

Hermione slowly walked towards her door, and opened it with a slight _creaking _sound courtesy of the rusty hinges. She peeked her head out of the door, surveyed the area, and breathed a sigh of relief. _Good_, she thought to herself. An empty hallway.

She crept out from the doorway, and slowly closed her door with a soft _click_, grimacing at the creaking noise, hoping and praying inquiring ears would not come her way. Hermione walked slowly down the hallway, making her way into the main staircase area. She took a moment to stick her head and half top of her torso over the marble edge of the railing, gazing at the steps below. Naturally, they were moving. _No surprise there_, the young woman thought to herself. Trying to swallow a lump in her now dry throat, Hermione turned towards the nearest set of steps and quietly began her descent towards the Great Hall.

Step after step, she took note of her cotton-like mouth. Her palms were becoming sweaty, and she could feel her heart beat within her chest. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Paintings alongside the staircases continued to greet her. She stared at her feet, at each single step in front of her, not uttering a single sound.

Finally, Hermione reached level ground. The young woman took a few steps, before she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. A slit of light was coming from her right hand side. She turned her body to face the light, and felt her heart quicken a tad bit faster.

It was the door to the castle. One was slightly ajar, swinging softly in the wind, letting a peak of warm sunlight into the castle. It was as if the door was _taunting _her as it blew in the breeze ever so slightly.

Hermione's eyes opened wider.

She took one step towards the door…

And then another.

It was a bit of freedom, that slightest bit of hope glistening beyond the door. Hermione's heart raced, as she imagined even for the briefest moment, bolting through those doors and escaping. Running. Running as fast as she could from-

…Suddenly, the door flew shut with a resounding bang. Hermione, abruptly pulled from her thoughts of fleeing, inhaled sharply, obviously surprised by the loud noise echoing in the castle. After taking a few moments to remind herself to breathe and take control of her heart rate, she exhaled in defeat. Her mouth formed a tight line, and she felt her jaw clench. It was clear that at least for tonight, there would be no escape.

As Hermione turned towards the steps leading to the Great Hall, she was unaware of the cloaked figure that was hiding in the shadows. Watching her. A figure that eyed her gawking at the opened door. The very same figure that closed the door with a single swift motion of his hand, making sure she would not have a chance to run. He watched her mind working, plotting; saw her taking steps towards what she would consider _freedom_…

Severus Snape's lips formed a tight line as he watched Hermione ascended the cold marble steps. Waiting until she just about reached the top, he steadily made his way towards the Great Hall using another passage.

Hermione was one step away from the top when suddenly a figure with tussled black hair and black-rimmed glasses shot out in front of her.

"Hermione!"

Hermione gasped, obviously lost in thought, as she began to quickly lose her balance on the step. A hand shot out and grabbed the woman by the wrist, pulling her forward. Hermione's eyes widened, as she struggled to regain her balance.

"Harry! Dear God -would you please watch where you are going?!" she yelled at the man in front of her, obviously upset that she almost toppled down a giant flight of unpleasantly cool and hard marble steps.

Harry smiled and looked at the ground.

"Sorry, 'Mione. Just…just wanted to say 'Hi,' that's all…," Harry said sheepishly. He continued to hold her wrist as he looked down at the ground, then back up into the large deep brown eyes of the woman in front of him.

Hermione's heart felt as though it was going to beat through her chest. After all, it's not every day that one is scared out of their wits. She looked down at the limb held by the person in front of her. Wiggling it a bit was a sign for Harry to let go. He did without question.

With a disproving look towards the figure in front of her, Hermione began walking down the short hallway that led to the Great Hall. Harry quickly caught up with her step.

"You know," Harry began, "…I really am glad you're here. That you're _still_ here. You know, glad you didn't jump out a window or run out the door or anything of the sort," he commented with a straight face. He meant what he said. There was no telling what Hermione was capable of.

The woman stopped in her tracks.

"And what would happen if I did? If I did run out the doors? Would you hunt me down? Like an animal?" she inquired, looking directly into Harry's green eyes.

Harry stopped walking as well. He looked at Hermione, and then his eyes looked up to the ceiling as he scratched his head.

"Yeah," he said finally, "…we would most likely find you. Again. Or '_hunt you down'_ as you would put it," he added, a smirk on his gentle face.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Without another word, she walked a few feet towards the wooden doors to the Great Hall. She stood in front of the door and swallowed the lump in her throat. Just as she grabbed the handle in front of her, with all the courage she had mustered up, Hermione heard Harry's voice from in back of her.

"_I hope you're hungry_…"

The door opened, and Hermione's look of annoyance from said comment turned into sheer terror.

So many faces. So many _smiling_ faces. And there were streamers, and balloons, and food. She looked up at the ceiling to see a giant sign read "Welcome Home Hermione" lit up by twinkling stars. Hermione did not breathe. Did not blink. Did not smile.

She turned to Harry, her eyes narrowing, and growled in the deadliest of tones:

"Well, Harry – how _are_ your hunting skills…"


	16. Chapter 16

The initial shock of it all was in a sense rather short-lived, having seen a 'Welcome Home' sign in the Headmistress' office earlier that day. The look of sheer terror on Hermione's face quickly turned into pure annoyance. She felt herself beginning to become angry, the heat creeping from within her chest, rising to her neck.

Harry quickly spotted the emotional transformation on Hermione's face. He turned towards her, so his back was to the crowded Hall.

'Mione, _breathe_,' he commanded quietly yet sternly, focusing on her dark eyes. 'Breathe. Please. They…_we_ just got carried away,' he added, his tone apologetic. 'We love you, honest we do and we…we just got excited, that's all. You've given us a reason to celebrate…' Harry could see she was having no part of this. She wasn't even listening to him, and instead was continuing to glare at the sign on the ceiling, her name in bright twinkling lights. Harry sighed in frustration. "_Here_…" he said, a lick of disappointment in his tone.

Harry turned around and with a single swift wave of his hand, the sign in the sky, the balloons, and any other sign of a celebratory decoration was immediately vanquished. He turned back around to face Hermione.

'Better?' he inquired with raised eyebrows, an optimistic look upon his face though unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Hermione closed her eyes slowly and reopened them. She felt the heat leaving her body, and her body became a bit less stiff. She was still very much guarded, as her eyes scanned the area before looking back at Harry.

'Fine. Better. _Thank you_…,' she added softly, her arms drawn up and criss-crossed in front of her torso as if protecting her form. She stared straight ahead.

Harry put a hand on the small of Hermione's back and with just a tad of force, guided her to a massive table in the middle of the room. The four large tables and benches that Hermione had remembered from long ago had been removed, and a giant dark-wooden table with mismatched chairs had been placed in the center. There were abundant amounts of hot food placed strategically on the table, golden goblets of sweetened pumpkin juice, and perfect arrangements of deserts and pastries that looked absolutely mouth-watering.

Harry firmly led the woman to one of two empty chairs that were located in the center of the table. Hermione was grateful for this. It was easier to blend in by sitting within the center of the table, rather than being placed at one of its ends for all to stare at. Although due to current circumstances, 'blending in' appeared to be quite futile.

Hermione eyed her seat carefully before pulling out the chair and gently sitting down. She swallowed and her eyes rose to scan the people that surrounded her. It was just as it was in the Headmistress' room only hours before. The looks on the familiar faces, the smiles: it was all out of_ love_. Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ginny, Fred and George were there. Luna sat next to Ginny, and on the other side were Tonks and Lupin. Madame Pomfrey had a most joyous expression on her face, yet Hermione noticed that her eyes looked quite tired and appeared to have purplish circles underneath of them. She sat on one side of Hermione. The Headmistress sat at one end of the table, a tight smile on her lips. Even Kingsley Shacklebot was present. Hermione struggled to remember if he was still the Minister of Magic, or whatever it was called these days. Hagrid was also seated at the table, a huge grin upon his face. There was Harry sitting on the other side of Hermione, his back slightly arched forward as if protecting her from a rogue turkey leg that might try to attack them during the course of dinner. And last but not least, Serverus Snape was sitting directly across from Hermione, his face unsurprisingly void of emotion.

Minerva McGonagle was the first to speak.

'Well, let us all begin before supper gets cold…shall we?' she stated matter-of-factly, as she scanned the table.

Hermione looked at the older woman, and then back at her empty plate. Everyone around her began taking their own portions of dinner, some more than others. It seemed as though when given the 'OK' to begin eating, Fred and George filled their plates sooner than one could say 'Quidditch.' Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled inwardly. Some things never changed…

There was only one person missing tonight. Well, two if you counted Dumbledore, but really only one that mattered most to Hermione. It saddened her to think of the times when the three of them used to eat meals in this very room. The times they studied last minute for a Transfiguration exam. The times they spent eating breakfast together before the boys had a Quidditch match on an early Saturday morning.

As if sensing her sorrow, Harry leaned in and began to load up Hermione's plate with food.

'Eat, Mione – you're going to need your strength. _Especially tomorrow_,' he added as an afterthought, piling a steaming plate of mashed potatoes on her plate.

_Tomorrow?_ Hermione thought to herself.

The young woman turned her head to look at Harry. 'What's…_tomorrow_?' she asked cautiously, a puzzled look on her face as her brow furrowed.

As if on cue, the Headmistress wiped her mouth with a maroon-colored napkin, and cleared her throat after swallowing a mouthful of pumpkin juice.

'Ah yes, Hermione,' the Headmistress began. 'We are entirely grateful that you are here with us to assist with all the…festivities, as they may be called. Tomorrow is, indeed, the first day of classes at Hogwarts,' she announced to the young woman, a small smile on her lips as she spoke to Hermione from the head of the table.

Hermione felt her eyes grow wide, and her breathing halted.

She had forgotten what tomorrow was. Had lost all track of time. It was September 1st. Indeed, the first day of classes at the castle…

Madame Pomfrey placed her fork down with a slight 'clink,' and turned her head to look at Hermione.

'Oh, I am so very happy that you have decided to stay and help out with the children! You have no idea how much this means to me – an extra set of hands in the hospital wing is always appreciated, especially with Quidditch tryouts, exploding cauldrons, and other mishaps,' she continued with glee, obviously tickled pink that Hermione would be around to help out with routine illness or ailments. Her voice was soft, yet firm and she appeared truly thankful and appreciative to have someone around to assist her.

Severus' mouth formed a tight line, as the ends of his lips curved ever so slightly to mask a smile. He enjoyed watching Hermione taking all of this in. With Pomfrey's blissful attitude, there was absolutely no way that the young woman would leave now. As much as she was angry, frustrated, and utterly confused regarding the entire span of events over the course of these past few days, he knew of one thing: Hermione was dedicated to her career. Without a job at her old hospital, she had a new one to busy herself with. And if there was another thing he knew about his most beloved student, it was that she thrived at keeping both hands and mind busy.

No questions were asked of Hermione during supper. Instead, most of the conversation took place surrounding the young woman. Harry thought it best that they didn't throw question after question at Hermione, or gush at the fact that she was where, in their minds, she belonged. The idle chitchat was somehow soothing to Hermione. She finished what little dinner she could muster, and ate half a lemon pastry. Hermione had to admit that the food was pretty good. Either that, or she was so deprived of nutrition during the last few days that just about anything would have tasted delicious.

Soon, supper had ended and the guests began to drift from the table, one by one, some in pairs. Hermione looked at Harry.

'I'd like to get some air. I think.' She desperately needed some fresh air to clear her thoughts. To rescue her emotions.

Harry gave her a silent and disapproving look. His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak.

Hermione rolled her eyes, flustered by Harry's mute gaze.

'I _won't _run. I promise. I just want…_need_ to be outside for a moment. _Alone_,' she pleaded softly to the young man next to her. Harry's emerald eyes softened a bit. She needed her space, this was most certain. _But could she be trusted?_ Harry had no choice. If she was to trust him, he was going to have to trust _her_.

Harry cleared his throat.

'Of course, Mione. It's beautiful outside. Well, as if you couldn't already tell…" he joked, a crooked smile appearing on his face.

Hermione gave Harry a small smile, and grabbed hold of his hand. Squeezing it ever so gently, she spoke to him.

'Thank you. I'll…I won't be long,' she said quietly, as she removed her hand from his, and got up from her seat, walking swiftly towards the door to the Great Hall. She opened the door, and began her decent down the cool, white marble steps.

Severus viewed the entire scene before his eyes. Harry watched his friend exit the hall, and instantly met the gaze of the man sitting across the table from him.

'You don't think she'll run, do you?' Harry asked Severus. It seemed more of a statement than an actual question.

The Potions Master rolled his eyes.

'With the charms placed around the castle, and no wand to control them, it would be most difficult for her to get very far at all,' Severus stated matter-of-factly to the young man sitting across from him.

'However,' Snape continued, '-she _is_ still quite clever. Brilliant, that is without doubt. Foolish, yes and also as of late quite…_unpredictable._ But she is…clever,' he added as an afterthought, picking up his goblet to sample some pumpkin juice.

Harry looked at the wooden door to the Great Hall with a worried expression. She was clever. Would figure_ something _out.

'Maybe I should go out there just to check-' But Harry was abruptly interrupted by a gigantic figure who plopped down beside him.

'Harry!' Hagrid interjected, '-Question for ya: Might yer be interested in helping me out with the first-years this year? I may be a little late-'

Severus took this newfound opportunity to rise from the table in one swift motion. He quickly stood up, and immediately exited the Great Hall without another word. 'T_hank God for small favors_,' he thought to himself, as he smiled inside, grateful for the giant's interruption. Listening to his shoes pound softly on the marble steps, he eventually found himself approaching the front doors to the castle. With calloused fingers, he grabbed the handle and pulled forward, opening the castle to a red-orange setting sun. He took a few steps outside, and looked to his right. No sign of anyone. He looked to his left, and saw a young woman sitting on a bench in the courtyard, arms crossed, her head bent down, as her legs sprawled haphazardly in front of her. One of her shoelaces was slowly becoming untied. Severus concluded that it was doubtful if she even cared.

The Potions Master slowly approached the young woman, walking ever carefully towards her slumped figure. He stopped in front of her, regarded her form, and without a word sat down beside her, staring at the fountain in the courtyard.

'_For the last time_, _I'm not going anywhere…you can go back inside now_,' he heard the muffled sound coming from the body next to him. Hermione still had her head bent as she addressed the man next to her. Her long hair began to blow in the breeze, slightly uncovering her face.

Severus continued to stare at the fountain.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the fountain bubbling in the near distance, and the echo of a few birds chirping and chattering in the surrounding trees.

The quiet was comfortable for both individuals on the bench. Truth be told, Hermione actually didn't mind having some company at this very moment. She was in fact glad that the man next to her had ignored her request to return to the castle. She found his presence…_comforting_, in some sort of strange way. And for the first time in many days, she felt oddly _safe_ with him next to her…

She thought of when he held her in the hospital wing. How he had come to visit her in Saint Mungos. How he was standing there, egging her on as she pointed her wand at herself only nights ago. All of these new memories…they were confusing to her. And yet, once again, strangely _comforting_…For once it was nice to feel as though she mattered. That someone was watching out for her. That others cared about her as a person, and not just merely a script-producing Physician.

…_But then again, they did kind of think of her as just a Physician_, she thought to herself. _That is why they want me here. Not because I matter as a person. No, I am here to work. They are using me! They are using me to_-

'Enough,' she heard a voice bellow from the man sitting next to her.

Hermione was abruptly ripped from her thoughts. Her head snapped up as she stared straight ahead at nothing in particular, her brown eyes glazed over.

The young woman blinked a few times and inhaled and exhaled deeply. Her hands were still crossed in front of her. She began to bite the inside of her cheek.

Severus sighed. 'As unpredictable as you are, Hermione…you are _terribly_ easy to read…' he stated confidently, continuing to look straight ahead. _At least to me_, he acknowledged inwardly.

Hermione slowly turned her head to look at Severus.

'_Really_…' she boldly stated, looking at the profile of the man sitting beside her. She studied his face for a brief moment. His features appeared the same, although he did look just a tad more sallow. And tired. Come to think of it, he looked…_exhausted_. Hermione's brow furrowed in regards to her present thoughts.

Severus turned his head to face her. He raised his eyebrows.

'Yes. _Really_.' His bored expression was now the least bit comforting to Hermione at this point. It was actually quite irritating.

'So, you can read minds now? You can hear my thoughts?' she inquired in a mocking tone.

Severus narrowed his eyes.

'No, you daft girl. I have never been a mind reader, _nor_ will I ever be one. As I stated before, you are _very_ easy to read. It would take an idiot not to be aware of how flustered you become when your thoughts are out of control. You breathe faster. You clench your fists. You become…very tense,' he added, still looking at the woman sitting next to him.

Hermione's mouth formed a single line, as she clenched her jaw. She broke eye contact with Severus and continued to watch the fountain. _How dare he try to…figure me out_, she thought. It angered her.

'Your wand is in my office…if you would care to retrieve it one of these days…,' he added, still looking at Hermione. A few moments of silence passed.

'You _will_ do magic again. I promise, Hermione…'

'And what if I don't? What if all I can do is…is wreck objects, and doors, and…oh who the fuck knows _what_ else if I don't…_can't_ control my emotions?! I'm a danger to everyone around me, including myself. I can't even imagine what the others must think-'

Severus interrupted her.

'They do not see you as you perceive yourself to be. They simply see _you. _And no one else. They see the same person they always have. There is no illusion,' Severus concluded sternly, once again looking at the woman beside him.

'As I stated before, I will help you. And if you feel as though you cannot be…_helped_, you are free to do as you wish. If you choose to leave, I will respect your wishes. If you choose to never be in our presence again, I will respect that as well. But as long as you are here,' he added, his voice becoming quieter, '…I refuse for you to give up on yourself without even trying. I will do anything and everything I can to help you. _To protect you…_' he said to her, his eyes beholding the truth of every word he spoke to her.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. Somehow, his voice, his words were very calming. She…dare she say it…was perhaps beginning to _trust_ him. It had been years that Hermione trusted anyone. No one was worthy of her trust, she believed. Most importantly, when you open your emotions and more importantly your heart to another, you make a choice to let them in. _What do I have to lose now…_the young woman thought to herself. Here she sat, mentally scolding herself for becoming vulnerable once again. In her mind, she did not necessarily need a protector. Or a teacher. Or someone to tell her what she ought and ought not to do. She needed…_a friend_. Someone who would not judge her. Someone who would accept her for what she was, and who she would be. Someone she could…_trust_…

Hermione uncrossed her arms, as she placed her hands palm down on her thighs. She swallowed hard and stared straight ahead. She took her right hand, and laid it ever so carefully on the bench next to her, palm up. The Potions Master turned his head to look at the young woman, took a brief second to regard her empty hand, and turned his gaze in front of him. He slowly and deliberately slipped his left hand into Hermione's palm, honoring her silent request. He felt the warmth of her hand, as they intertwined ever so carefully.

Her grip was firm. Deliberate.

He permitted his eyes to glance towards her. She had a hardened expression as she continued to look in front of her. She was once again biting the inside of her cheek, and it looked as though she had a million thoughts swarming through that brain of hers. _Some things never change, _Severus thought to himself. He then peered down at their hands, and felt a warm feeling envelope his chest.

_Then again…perhaps some things do…_


	17. Chapter 17

Just as Severus and Hermione were heading back into the castle, a tawny owl screeched overhead the pair. Hermione instantly looked up, and took a moment to admire the owl's extensive wing-span before noticing a single stone-colored envelope dropping from the animal's sharp black beak. The owl flew off silently, leaving the envelope to drift quietly down towards the Earth below.

The two figures stopped walking, and Severus opened his hand in front of him, accepting the piece of parchment dropping carelessly from the sky. Hermione watched as Severus' eyes narrowed.

Hermione looked at Severus. Moments passed between the two before Hermione frowned and spoke to the man next to her.

'_What is it_?' Hermione softly inquired.

Severus folded the note in his hand, and dropped the appendage by his side. He turned his gaze towards Hermione, a worried look upon his sallow face.

'Helen Crawford has gone missing,' Severus stated matter-of-factly, the slightest bit of concern heard in his deep voice.

Hermione swallowed and remained silent. She felt her stomach drop to her knees. Just a short while ago, she was in the woman's house, sharing a cup of tea with the sweet Mrs. Crawford. The thought of something bad happening to her made Hermione physically ill, not to mention entirely responsible.

'Where…_where do you think_-' Hermione stammered, but was immediately cut off.

'We must start tonight,' Severus interrupted, now looking straight in front of him at the doors to the castle. 'Tonight, you must re-learn what you have lost…what you have… _forgotten._ Time is running out, Hermione…' The potions master looked at her with dark eyes, behind them a hint of worry.

Severus began walking towards the doors of the castle, as Hermione quickly met his stride. Together, the two of them headed inside the old building, Snape a few paces ahead of his counterpart.

Hermione followed Severus silently down the marble steps, finally arriving into the depths of the castle. The smell of mildew, dirt, and burning wood flooded the young woman's nose. Such familiar smells from long ago. The two eventually stopped in front of a terribly worn-looking wooden door. Severus reached for his wand and with a flick of his wrist, opened the door, its hinges creaking in the echo of the deserted hallway.

Severus walked into the potions classroom, Hermione following silently behind. With a flick of Snape's hand, sconces on either side of the room lit, allowing forth a bit of dim light for the pair to see. Hermione passed cauldrons, benches, and various albeit familiar bottles and flasks as they hurried into Severus' quarters, located adjacent to the classroom.

Hermione stopped short once entering into the Potions Master's quarters. She watched as Severus went over to a bookshelf, taking hold of a slender case that sat idly on one of the shelves. He opened the case carefully, briefly looked down at its contents, and closed his eyes. Opening them, he turned around, and strode towards the young woman. Without a word, and with Hermione's wand in his hand, he held the piece of wood out to her.

Hermione's mouth formed a tight line. She swallowed hard, and stood looking for a few seconds at her old wand. Slowly a clammy hand picked up the slender object as Severus turned her back on her, walking towards the bookshelf once again.

'Here. You will read these. I have no doubt that you will finish them in a moment's time. This one is of special importance due to the fact that….' Snapes voice trailed on as Hermione was silently lost in thought. She averted her eyes to glance at her wand, a slight feeling of electricity pulsating throughout her arm. It was definitely hers. On one hand, she knew deep down that this moment would come ever since she discovered that her wand was still intact.

And while looking down at the piece of wood, Hermione's thoughts shifted once again, this time to the thought of Helen Crawford.

Hermione knew it was her fault that the sweet woman was missing. Her fault that she _might even be_…but Hermione could not bare the thought. It was a horrible thought, one that left the young woman very much worried. Hermione wasn't stupid – she knew that Helen Crawford's disappearance was no accident; that much was certain. Suffice it to say, Hermione felt more than responsible for the latest circumstances that have managed to present themselves…

As Severus turned back towards Hermione, he plopped four hard-covered books in her arms. She could see that one of them had binding that was literally held onto by a single thread. The one on the bottom was missing the back cover. Hermione looked up at the man standing before her.

'Read them. Learn from them,' he commanded her. 'You have a limited amount of time to relearn your teachings. I assume you will have no trouble with the text,' he added, a touch of smugness in his voice.

Hermione was lost in thought once again about the disappearance of the kind old woman. As her fingers gently brushed across one of the indented titles of a textbook, she nodded absentmindedly, and she turned around to exit the room.

Severus's eyes narrowed.

'Miss Granger,' he bellowed, '-have you heard a single word I said to you?' he added matter-of-factly. 'Or was there something _else_ you wanted to discuss,' he added with a raise of his eyebrows. Obviously, she was in great thought about something.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, and looked up. She turned around slowly. The young woman began to open her mouth about Miss Crawford, but shut it quickly. And then she did something else that, to put it mildly, annoyed the _hell_ out of the person standing opposite her.

Hermione averted her eyes when she faced the Potions Master.

She knew he was a superb occlumens. Looking him in the eye would subject her to even further inquiry and likewise she would be responsible for an appropriate answer. The last thing Hermione wanted was for another opportunity for her to explain her thinking, her rationalizing, and her judgment, whether it be good or bad.

Nonetheless, Hermione smiled a small smile, and nodded her head.

'Good night, Professor. And…_thank you_,' she added quietly, as she quickly turned back around and exited through the door out into the damp, dark hallway. Hermione stopped and outside the door. She looked down at the frail, albeit cumbersome books in her grasp and sighed.

…_It would be a long night…_

The young woman made her way up the marble steps of the castle. Each purposeful step echoed throughout the deserted hallways. The old building was silent and still this evening. Unlike tomorrow. Tomorrow, would be a _much_ different story…

The last thing the young Doctor thought about before letting the last book slip from her warm fingers upon the wooden floor, was that the next day would bring some form of organized chaos about the castle. Likewise, she held the same thought when she awoke in the late morning. It would be an emotional day, to say the least.

Hermione quietly sat on the side of her bed, the springs of her mattress groaning ever so gently with her movement. The young woman yawned and began to rub the sleep out of her eyes. After stretching out her upper torso, she inhaled and exhaled deeply.

_Today is not going to be a easy day_, Hermione thought to herself.

As the young woman sat upon her bed, she stared at the floor and found herself lost in thought for the millionth time that week.

_Things have gotten so…very strange_, she thought. _One minute, I was going home to nothing, and then a…a single piece of paper changed everything. A single visit. And everything changed…forever…_Hermione continued to stare at one of the wooden planks in her floor. _…And tonight, there will be even more changes…the students will come, their year will begin, and so…so will mine…_

As of this very evening Hermione would become Madame Pomfrey's newest assistant in the hospital wing. In one aspect, the young Doctor was optimistic at the prospect of caring medically for the students at Hogwarts. On the other hand, she was terrified. The spells, the incantations – yes, Severus _did_ give her a book to freshen up her spells and whatnot, and indeed she had remembered the majority of spells used for healing and such, but…but to put them into practice was…_well_…

…Hermione quickly remembered the last time she had used her wand.

She had all intentions of ending her life with her wand that evening. Funny how she was now going to be using the piece of wood to heal others…

Thinking back to that night, and all the events that transpired prior and subsequent to that evening, Hermione found herself growing nauseous and lightheaded. She frowned and placed a hand on her stomach. Rather than being…_smart_ in treating her symptoms and fetching a warm cup of tea and crackers, she immediately willed her body to jump back into bed and burrow herself under the covers. And that is exactly what the young woman did.

'_Mione?_',..

The young woman laid with her eyes closed, and listened. She thought she had heard someone calling out to her, but she could not be certain. Why risk it, she thought to herself. She continued to lay in bed, not moving a single inch.

'Mione, wake up…' a male voice gently called out to her.

Hermione took two hands and peeled the warm blue blanket from upon her face. She squinted briefly trying to identify the figure in front of her, but she quickly recognized both sound and body.

Harry stood by her bed. He was dressed in…_dress robes_?

Hermione frowned.

'_Oh shit_,' she thought to herself. If by instinct, she turned towards her clock. It read 4:45 PM. _The feast_, she thought. Had she missed it? Had she really slept that late?

Hermione whisked off the covers and turned her body quickly towards the edge of the bed. With a single scoot, she had her feet plopped on the floor and planted herself on the ground. Rising quickly, she stood face to face with Harry.

She took a quick moment to look at the person in front of her. Scanning his entire length, she allowed herself to admit that he did look quite handsome this evening. And then he smiled his goofy smile at her, his green eyes lighting up at her awakened figure.

'They will be here soon…the students,' he added, still continuing to grin at her. 'You…did you still want to go down to the hall? I would understand if…if you didn't want to, but we would love for you to be there…_I would really like for you to be there_…' he added, almost appearing shy at beckoning her presence this evening.

Hermione smiled slightly.

She had made up her mind hours ago that she would go to the welcoming feast. As much as she didn't' want to go…as much as it would bring back memories of so long ago…they invited her to be there. And, if there's one thing Hermione always told her patients, it was better getting things over with if you just confronted them. Like a band aid. Just rip it off, because taking your time would be so _much_ more painful…

'I need to shower, Harry. And I need to get dressed. Save me a seat, will you?' she asked softly, as she began to make her way across her bedroom to the bathroom.

Harry continued to smile.

'Of course, Mione. I…I'll save you a seat. No worries!' he added, a mixture of both joy and relief in his voice.

Hermione nodded slowly and giving him one last look, she closed the bathroom door behind her with a soft _click_.

A fresh bar of soap later, a few bobby pins here and there, and a pair of heels that Hermione despised for their lack of auditory discretion, the young woman found herself ready to face the music.

She walked towards her door, opened it, and shut it quietly behind her. Pausing a moment to regard her decision, and even for a moment relishing the notion of faking an illness in order not to attend, she willed herself to let go of the old doorknob and turned to make her way down the hall and onto the main staircase.

Pictures and portraits greeted her on her way. There were salutations, greetings of warmth and welcome, and there were also whispers, which incidentally made Hermione even the more subconscious given her evening attire. Sure, it had been years since she had dressed for a special occasion, but surely there was nothing even _remotely _special about her looks. At least that is what she believed.

Hermione reached the foot of the stairs just as the Headmistress was coming out of the Great Hall to fetch the students at the entrance to the castle. She stopped in her tracks, her sealed lips forming a warm smile upon her face. The older woman thought back to when Hermione was a little girl, how she looked in her Hogwarts uniform, and now…now that little girl had obviously grown into a beautiful, intelligent young woman. Minerva was proud to say the least. The Headmistress nodded towards Hermione, and the young woman in turn gave a brief smile and a small wave. Hermione turned her body towards the Great Hall, closed her eyes and with a deep inhale and exhale, turned the corner to enter the Hall.

The first thing Hermione saw when she entered the Hall, was the professors and guests already seated at the head tables. They were talking amongst themselves, providing most welcomed background chatter. As she continued her way down towards the table, her focus was on the wooden tables and benches on either side of her, the fireplaces that were blazing, and the night sky within the castle's ceiling, lit with floating white candles of all shapes and sizes.

As Hermione approached the tables, she took notice that there was an empty seat between two individuals. Seeing as if this was the only seat left available, she walked up two steps towards the platform upon which she would be seated. The two men on either side of her seat stood in unison, allowing her to pass. She nodded to them silently, and sat down in the golden plush chair that was reserved for her. Neither of the men spoke, but continued to discreetly stare at her. The young woman, obviously oblivious to their gazes, continued to scan the room and placed her view once again on the ceiling.

Hermione felt slightly nauseated once again. She had a slight headache. An at least for the moment, she did not want to engage in conversation. At least not right now.

This was fortunate for either man seated beside Hermione. For both instantly found themselves speechless when they saw her walk down the aisle.

As soon as she entered into the Hall, Severus felt his heart quicken.

_She was breathtaking_…

He remembered seeing a wedding photo of her in her home, but it paled in comparison to what he viewed this evening. She had on a burgundy gown, long sleeves, a v-neckline, which displayed a beautiful dark colored necklace upon her exposed flesh. There was just the slightest hint of beading on the satin fabric which was emphasized by candlelight.

Severus did not take his eyes off of the woman.

_She was stunning… _

He watched her as she viewed the décor of the Great Hall, clearly reminiscing about the last time she had entered the room. A hint of sadness coupled with nostalgia enveloped her face, and it made her look even more beautiful. Severus felt his mouth go dry, and was thankful that she appeared less than interested in holding a conversation as she sat staring next to him.

Harry spoke first.

'Mione, you look…you look _amazing_,' he said, a wide grin on his face as he admired his friend next to him. Hermione looked at him, absentmindedly reaching up her hand and placing a stray curl behind her ear as she felt her face grow flush.

'Oh Harry, it's just me. You know that. I found this gown in my closet. I thought…well, it was the only thing appropriate for this occasion, and I-' but their conversation was cut forth due to the sound of young voices approaching the Hall. Suddenly, Hermione was greeted with the sounds and sights of young students making their way into the Great Hall. They looked…_small_, she thought to herself. Rather short to be exact. There was one that had a head full of bright red curls. Another that had already spilled some form of food or drink on their school robes. And still another older student, who clearly did not adhere to the regulation skirt length that the school enforced.

The sorting ceremony began, and Hermione watched student after student sorted into their houses. One girl reminded the young witch of herself when she was younger. She had bushy brown hair, and a yielded a certain assertiveness about herself. Hermione smiled. She scanned the students in front of her, and closed her eyes.

_She listened to the end of the Headmistress' speech, heard the students began to eat, the sound of silver-wear clinking, and the sound of happy chatter, full of giggles, laughter, and excitement._

And still with her eyes closed, she placed herself in their shoes. How…how _carefree_ they were. How innocent. And these very thoughts made Hermione smile ever so gently.

Severus watched the woman next to him with great interest. Her eyes remained closed, yet a small smile grew upon her sealed lips. It suited her. He wondered what she was thinking.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open in response to a commotion at one of the tables closest to the head table. Two boys from the Hufflepuff table were in the midst of an argument, or a bet it would seem. The one was betting how many blueberries from the bowl of fresh fruit he could catch in his mouth by throwing them up in the air and catching them. Some of the other students at the table quickly became interested. The young boy grabbed a handful of blueberries, and one by one began popping them up in the air, and catching them in his mouth. While the other students looked in awe, the boy seated across from him pulled out his wand. The next blueberry the boy tossed in the air grew to the size of a pastry, and as it made contact with the boy's face, it exploded and a purplish-bluish tint grew upon his face, the contents of the blueberry splattering upon his face and new robes.

The Hufflepuff table broke out into fits of laughter. And truth be told, those professors who viewed the misuse of magic would have had some disciplinary actions for those involved, had it not been for the sound they heard coming from between Harry Potter and Severus Snape.

The moment Hermione saw the stunned expression upon the boy, his face covered in blueberry juice, she began laughing. Out loud. She put her hand on her stomach, and continued to laugh, almost doubling over. Tears formed in her eyes, as she continued to laugh at the scene in front of her. The face on the boy, it was priceless. And Hermione laughed like she hadn't laughed in years.

Severus was mentally calculating his first detention days of the new school year while watching the two boys, when his head snapped towards the direction of the laughter. He watched her double over in laughter, struggling to breathe in the midst of laughing so hard. As if she had forgotten all her worries, all her troubles, and all her sadness.

It made him smile ever so slightly, and greatly warmed his heart. And suddenly he had a thought that he knew to be true:

…_Her laughter was perhaps one of the most beautiful sounds in the world…_


	18. Chapter 18

After a few moments, Hermione's laughter finally subsided. She began wiping her damp eyes with a golden-colored cloth napkin that was once placed on her lap.

'Oh Harry, did you see…I mean _really_ that was just _too_…and it reminded me of the time-' Hermione turned towards Harry, her eyes growing bigger, '-_oh_ you remember that time when you and Ron and I we were sitting here as second years, and Ron made the funniest face when that ghost from Ravenclaw-…'

But suddenly, Hermione stopped speaking.

Her mouth suddenly closed slowly. The grin upon her face quickly faded. And Hermione looked down at the napkin in her lap and smiled sadly. She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand and chuckled softly.

'God, those were great times, _weren't they_…' she said to no one in particular, continuing to stare down at her lap.

Harry looked at her, offering a kind smile in return.

'They were, Mione. _They were…great times_…' he added softly, looking at the woman next to him, his eyes hiding just a twinge of sadness behind them.

Watching the students interact – watching them talking with one another, acting silly and goofy, and seeing their excited faces (especially the first year students) made him reminisce about years ago. Those were, indeed, some _very_ precious memories…

Moments passed, and soon Hermione and Madame Pomfrey found themselves in discussion regarding the care of the students in the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey was inquiring whether or not Hermione recalled certain spells, and most importantly, would feel comfortable in performing them. Hermione was a bit taken back by the older woman's lack of faith, but Hermione assured her that even if her magical abilities were hindered in certain circumstances, modern medicine just might be able to take over in other ways.

When supper had ended, the Headmistress instructed the students to go to their dormitories to retire for the evening, and to get ready for the first day of classes. Once again, the Great Hall was buzzing with the sound of young voices, and as Hermione surveyed the sight before her, a sea of black robes began to filter through the heavy wooden doors out into the main hallway.

Seeing the last of the students retreat to their houses, Hermione quickly stood up from her seat, and scooted her chair back from under her. She excused herself, and began to walk down the platform, leaving the two men on either side of her still seated. Hermione wanted to get as much rest as she could before the next day.

The first day.

_The first day of class_…

If those first years were nervous as to what their first day would be like, she wished those very same students knew just how nervous _she _was as well. It was as if the young woman was starting out all over again. But just as quickly as that thought entered her brain, Hermione quickly thought back to _her _first day of classes, and it put a small smile on her face.

_Maybe things wouldn't be that bad afterall_…

…But just as she was about to start making her way down the aisle towards the entrance of the Hall, she heard a screeching sound from above. Obviously, it belonged to an animal of some kind. It sounded...rather h_ostile_, Hermione thought. _Who would be getting a package this early in the evening, even before classes began, _the young woman wondered_._ As she turned towards the sound, she noticed a black owl making its way towards Hermione. It had a rather large package within its dangerous talons. Hermione continued to stare at the ominous creature, when it hovered above her for a second and released the package above her.

It was true that Hermione hadn't received mail from any type of winged creature in quite some time. So naturally, her reaction was to duck and step away a few paces.

All of a sudden, two large hands reached out to grasp the package.

It was Hagrid who took hold of the parcel. Taking a most careful look at the front of the box, he squinted and appeared dumbfounded.

'Oy, Hermione! What are you doing getting a package this early in the year?' he asked, continuing to look at the box.

Hermione continued to stare at the neatly wrapped box, a bit of twine holding the package ever so neatly.

What Hermione failed to notice, was two men who quickly appeared on either side of Hagrid upon hearing that the package was for Hermione. There were few people that knew of her residence here at the castle. The students would of course come to know and recognize her in later days, but for now, knowledge of her where-abouts had remained rather low-key.

Harry's eyes narrowed at the script written on the package. He took the package from Hagrid, and began opening the parcel, tearing and ripping the packaging haphazardly.

Hermione gritted her teeth, feeling the heat rise from within her chest, creeping towards her face. She stared at Harry, frozen in place.

Just then, Minerva McGonagall scurried down the aisle from where she was seated towards Hermione, her heavy green robes flying beneath her. She looked at Harry, then back and Hermione, and then back at Harry once again.

'Hermione,' she stated in a somewhat shaky voice, as she placed a steady grip on Hermione's right elbow '-let's go my dear, it is probably nothing, and you must go with Madame Pomfrey to the hospital wing to prepare all-'

But as the Headmistress tried to turn Hermione away, the young woman jerked her elbow, releasing its grip from the older woman. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she addressed the worrisome face of the Professor McGonagall.

'No, Professor. I'd much rather see what's going on. Harry?' Hermione turned towards Harry. Unfortunately, he did not hear her, being so fixated and concerned in regards to the contents of the package. This only made her angrier.

'HARRY!' she bellowed, her voice echoing within the Great Hall.

Hermione began walking up the aisle. The Headmistress once again, though this time a bit more forcefully, placed an arm around the woman in attempts to coax her away from the scene.

'Hermione, I _must_ ask you to leave, we have much to accomplish before-'

Hermione didn't pay one bit of attention to Professor McGonagall. Instead, she began walking past the Headmistress towards Harry, but stopped suddenly in her tracks when she saw a glimpse at the open box.

She looked at Harry. Then at the box. And once again at Harry.

She recognized that orange fur anywhere. And the collar. That very _same_ collar that she had made for the animal, years and years ago. The animal that she was _just _reunited with days ago. And the animal that she would never see again. It made her heart hurt.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, face full of disbelief. She covered her mouth, an instant reflex in regards to the site in front of her.

…_And then she made a connection_…

This was a warning. This was a _message_.

And this was all _very_ much tied into the disappearance of Helen Crawford…

Hermione continued to cover her mouth. Moments passed before she lowered her hand ever so slightly.

'_No_…' she whispered, feeling her heart ripped to shreds beneath her breastbone. 'No…_no it can't be_…what could he have done to deserve this…_what could_…'

Hermione stopped speaking.

For out of the corner of her eye, she saw another black bird fly across the room, dropping a dark green envelope directly above her. Instead of stepping aside, the young woman remained planted on the spot. Hermione saw Harry place the box on a nearby table and make his way over to Hermione in order to intercept the letter.

Hermione's eyes went wide. Her nostrils flared.

'NO' she commanded, throwing her arm and pointing her right hand in Harry's direction. The young man was instantly thrown back, first landing on the table, then sliding across the length of it onto the floor with an audible '_thud_.'

Hermione could have cared less.

With eyes full of fury, she reached out with the same hand to grasp the letter. She tore open the envelope and read the scripted parchment to herself:

_I do hope you enjoyed your little 'welcoming' gift, Granger. And, by the way, what DO you think happened to our dear Helen Crawford? Your precious little patient who has gone missing. You couldn't save your ugly feline – what makes you think you could save the old bag…even if you tried? Time is ticking, Mudblood…_

Hermione lowered the parchment. Holding the paper in one hand, she looked at the people surrounding her. With one hand, she crumpled the paper, clinging ever so tightly onto the ball of parchment in her fist.

Hermione felt her teeth clench. Her heart was racing a mile a minute, and her breathing quickened steadily.

She instantly regretted coming to the castle. For letting Harry and Snape bring her here. For going to Helen Crawford's house that very day to deliver her forgotten script to her. A random act of kindness – _and where did it get her_? Absolutely nowhere. _If anything, it had made things worse…_

Hermione looked down at the ground, and then back at the box.

She once again covered her mouth with her face, and felt her eyes continue to well with tears. Tears that would not be shed within the face of company. She would not break down in front of them that evening.

After many seconds of silence. Hermione whispered a barely audible, '_Excuse me,_' and she turned around. Her quick footsteps echoed within the Great Hall, and out into the main staircase.

'Hermione,' Harry called as he began to follow her out to the main hallway, but she did not respond.

Harry stood at the base of the staircase, watching Hermione in her beautiful burgundy gown, make her way quickly up the marble steps. He continued looking at her when he saw Severus approach him out of the corner of his eye. Never taking his eyes off his friend as her faint sobs could be heard throughout the now empty staircase, he spoke to the Potions Master.

'How did she know Helen Crawford was missing,' Harry asked, a touch of anger in his tone. Severus looked at Harry.

'She was with me when I was notified,' he stated quietly, he too looking at the form of the woman now flights above them.

Harry looked at Severus. His eyes darkened, and he frowned.

'Couldn't you have _lied_?' he asked, growing the slightest bit annoyed that she had found out in the first place.

Severus turned towards the young man. His brow furrowed and he sneered.

'What would you have had me done, Potter? Lie to her then only so she would find out later? Do you believe her to be that daft, that she would not eventually find out that the old woman went missing?' he too becoming annoyed at the young man's insolence.

'She didn't need to know right then. You know that. _I _know that,' Harry stated. 'You know, just as well as I do, that we don't need her running off. If she gets into the wrong hands…or god forbid something happens to her…you know how they want her on their side. You know just as well as I do that she is-'

Severus felt his anger boiling over.

'Potter – do _not _lecture me. Do you not think that I am well aware of the circumstances? Do you not-'

…But Severus Snape was unable to finish his sentence. He grabbed his left arm with his right hand, and hissed in response. Harry looked at the Potions Master and sighed.

'_This ought to be good_,' he stated sarcastically, looking at the arm of Severus Snape.

For once, Severus inwardly agreed with the arrogant twit.

The Potions Master gritted his teeth. He glared at the young man in front of him, and brushed pass the insolent boy, knocking into his shoulder on purpose.

As Severus made his way down the main staircase towards the front of the castle, he reached for the inside of his cloak, retrieving his Death Eater's mask in return. With a disproving look, he exited the castle, took his first breath of the evening air, and disappeared outside of the gates of Hogwarts with a single '_pop.'_


	19. Chapter 19

Hermione hastily walked up the steps of the grand staircase in Hogwarts castle. Without taking a break, without pausing to casually look at the portraits that adorned the walls of the main staircase as she had before, she struggled up the steps as she continued towards her quarters. Her legs were becoming weaker with each step. Her breathing was becoming labored and uneven. And her heart rate was most likely approaching an unsafe range.

_She could have cared less_.

It was amazing that she managed to walk without tripping head first on the cold marble, considering that her blurred eyes were constantly blinking back tears.

Moments later, Hermione reached her room. She grasped the knob with a firm grip and hoisted the heavy wooden door open. Stepping into her living quarters, she slammed the door behind herself. With a stern face, she quickly began taking off her dress as she approached her bedroom. Leaving the beautiful gown in a crumpled heap on the floor, she made no attempts to walk _over_ the gown but simply treaded on it. As if by instinct, she opened the bottom drawer of her dresser, and retrieved a dark green flannel pair of pants and a black long sleeve shirt. She threw on her ever-familiar pajamas, and while bending down to fix the hem with one hand, the other was blindly searching the top drawer for a single pair of heavy socks. Hermione found a trusty pair of warm gray socks, slipping her cool feet into them one by one. Once both feet were once again firmly planted on the ground, she approached her bed and sat down quite forcefully.

Her face crumpled. Her eyes dampened. And her chest heaved with the anguish and sorrow that was not allowed to surface while in the Great Hall.

Hermione put her head in he hands, and bent forward. Her sobs echoed within the tiny bedroom.

Granted, until late it had been many years since she had seen poor Crookshanks, but still – _to harm the innocent cat_? It was heartless. Cruel. _How could someone have done this_? Hermione thought to herself.

It was some time later until Hermione finally managed to compose herself. Her sobs died down to quiet sniffles here and there. Her eyes were red and swollen. And her nose was incredibly congested, annoying the young witch who was still slumped on the side of the bed.

Hermione sighed. She grabbed another tissue from her nightstand and blew her nose quite forcefully. She bent over to the other side of her nightstand to throw her tissue away, adding it to the already growing pile, and all of a sudden took notice of her gown, lying haphazardly on the wooden floor.

Hermione frowned. _I really should have hung it up instead of letting it fall. It's such a beautiful color, and_- but Hermione quickly switched thoughts in a split second. Her eyes opened a bit more, and she scanned the room, turning her head to gaze upon her quarters and finally getting up, making her way towards the gown. She picked it up, looked underneath it and threw it back on the grown. The young woman put her hands on her hips and scowled.

_Oh fuck me_…she thought to herself.

Hermione remembered that the sweater she had taken with her to dinner; the sweater that she ended up not even using due to the warmth in the Great Hall, was indeed _still _in the Great Hall. At least she had _hoped _it was. She remembered placing the clothing on the back of one of the arms of her chair. And she bet any amount of money that it was still there.

Hermione had two choices. She could forget the sweater until the morning, and hope that it would still be there. Lord knowing who or what may roam the castle at night did not give the young woman a good feeling. She liked that sweater. _A lot_. It was a gift from her parents, and she didn't want anything to happen to it.

Which led Hermione to plan B.

_Going to the Great Hall to get the damn thing herself…_

Hermione inhaled and exhaled deeply. She took a moment to look down at her feet. Yes, she was in her pajamas. And no, she was _not _about to get changed just to go downstairs to retrieve her forgotten sweater. Besides, she knew that the students had to be in their dormitories already. No one, except for seventh years most likely, were that eager to earn detentions for being out of bed this early in the school year.

As Hermione left her bedroom, she managed to grab a grey housecoat that hung on the back of her bedroom door. The young woman was slightly concerned that someone might see her sneaking downstairs in her pajamas, and for that she commended herself that at least she managed to have s_ome_ bit of pride left in her. Before exiting her bedroom, Hermione happened to look to her right, when something caught her eye on her dresser.

…_It was her wand._

After staring at the piece of wood for several seconds, Hermione scrunched up her face and closed her eyes tightly. With a quick arm extension, she grabbed the wand in a single swoop and shoved the piece of wood into the right pocket of her housecoat.

Hermione slipped on her dark gray slippers located by her front door, opened the heavy wooden door, and closed it quietly behind her. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, pausing to close her eyes and reopen them slowly. She walked towards the main staircase. All was quiet, except for the gently echoing sounds of the young woman's slippers on the cold marble as she steadily made her way down the marble steps of the silent castle.

Many miles away from the castle, Severus Snape found himself cautiously walking up the steps towards the ominous and infamous building noted as Malfoy Manor. His hands were balled into fists, his footsteps muffled in the outside environment. The air was chilled, and a light wind made the evening air even a few degrees colder than it actually was. Severus wrapped his robe around himself even more tightly, shielding himself from the night air.

Several moments later, the Potions Master found himself seated at the table in the obnoxiously large home, just a few feet from the Dark Lord himself. Severus looked down at his hands in his lap and exhaled more forcefully than expected. These meetings were of nothing good. _Ever. _And especially under the current circumstances - with the disappearance of Helen Crawford and the return of Hermione Granger to the wizarding world, things had become incredibly complex.

Suddenly, Voldemort slithered out of his chair.

'Lucius,' he called, addressing the eldest Malfoy '-I understand that_ you_ are to be commended for concealing the whereabouts of Helen Crawford. Well done, Lucius. _Well done_...' his voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper, as the Dark Lord slowly made his way to stand directly in front of the glowing embers of the fireplace located behind his chair. Severus watched with interest as the Dark Lord placed his dusky grayish hands behind his back.

Voldemort _hardly_ ever gave out praise. With raised eyebrows, Severus inwardly admitted to himself that he was surprised the meeting began as such.

Lucius smirked in response to Voldemort's comment.

'Well, my Lord - It wasn't simply I who acted on your accord. My son, Draco-' Lucius continued, wearing a sly smile upon his face as he gestured his head in recognition towards his son sitting across the table from him.

'SILENCE,' the Dark Lord commanded. Voldemort turned around, his silk-like robes fluttering behind him as he made his way towards Lucius.

_'Do...not...SPEAK_,' he hissed angrily at the eldest Malfoy, lurking behind his chair as he snaked around the table. _'Insolent fool_,' he added in disgust.

Voldemort walked over to one of the windows across the room in a fluid-like motion, his black robes once again floating behind him. The Dark Lord looked down at the gravel path leading up to Malfoy Manor. He took note of the giant trees lining the path; how they trembled slightly in the breeze. Voldemort then looked up slowly, focusing his slit-like eyes upon the full moon nestled within the starlit sky.

_'And Severus_,' Voldemort called quietly, still staring up at the glowing moon high above.

_'What about the girl_...'

Severus swallowed hard. He felt his hands clench ever so slightly, his heart begin to race, and he begged his mind to clear before answering the Dark Lord.

'She is at the castle,' Severus replied, staring at the back of the dark figure in front of the window.

Voldemort sneered.

'And she has picked up her wand, _Severus_? Has she begun to use magic once again? Surely, she has not forgotten…all that she has learned…_her past, especially'_ he added. The Dark Lord turned from the window to look at the Potions Master.

'Yes, my Lord. She has performed magic once again. A bit more forcefully, but as was predicted, she…she is _very_ strong. Very…_unpredictable_,' Severus replied, looking in the direction of the dark figure across the room.

Voldemort smirked.

'Yes, this…this was to be expected, _wasn't it_,' ruminating quietly to himself. 'Yes, if the girl were to…to remain _loyal_ to those who befriended her, she may prove to be a worthwhile ally. _However,_' Voldemort slowly crept back towards the table, standing only feet form Severus Snape, '-if she were to be _turned_…if there was _reason_ for her to join us-'

Lucios Malfoy suddenly straightened up in his seat.

'-then…' Voldemort continued, '-she would be most…_useful_ in our fight. Don't you think…._Severus?_' the Dark Lord asked, almost testing the loyality of the man seated at the table.

'Yes, my Lord. She would prove to be…a great asset to Potter's undoing,' Severus added, taking note of the slight sickening feeling in his stomach.

Voldemort snickered to himself. Once again, he walked the length of the table in silence, and sat down ever so carefully at the head of the table. Pausing to glance around the room, peering at every individual present, he addressed his followers:

'If she learns to control her magic and use it accordingly, one of two situations will occur. She may side with those at the castle. Her friends who had once forgotten her. Those people who have incorporated her into their lives as of recent, only to _use_ her. She will, then, be against us. _However,_ if-' Voldemort turned his head and his gaze to meet that of Severus' '-she can be swayed to see that her _friends_ are using her, and that she is in danger to those whom she has grown fond of, she may be used to _our _advantage, then of course…_properly disposed of'_ the Dark Lord added, sounding increasingly pleased given the current circumstances.

'Either way,' Voldemort hissed, his eyes growing dark as he inched forward in his seat, placing two hands on the table in front of him:

'…_she will die_. Whether she choose to fight for either side. She will…_die_,' he said in a hoarse tone, a sickening grin upon his face.

For the second time that evening, Severus swallowed hard. His mouth was increasingly dry, and he willed himself to remain calm.

Voldemort laughed quiety, leaning back in his chair, placing a grayish-whitish arm on either side of the chair.

'Go. All of you,' he commanded, a wicked sneer placed upon his ugly face. And without another word, all who were present at the table arose quickly and dispersed from the room.

As the Death Eaters exited the dining room, Severus noticed the flowing platinum locks of the man in front of him.

'Lucius,' Severus called, now walking in step with the fellow Death Eater, '-so where_ did_ you manage to hide that hag of a woman, Helen Crawford?' he inquired, looking straight ahead as he walked next to the other man.

Lucius smirked.

'_Wouldn't you like to know_…' his voice dripping with sarcasm, he too looking straight ahead as they approached the foyer.

Severus Snape stopped in his tracks.

'As a matter of fact, Lucius – I would,' he replied matter-of-factly, staring at the eldest Malfoy, who stopped to face the Potions Master.

Lucius squinted his hazel eyes and took a careful step towards Severus.

'And _why_ would that be, Severus?' He asked casually. 'Are you afraid you are falling out of the Dark Lord's good graces?' he added, a wicked sneer upon his face. 'Surely,_ you_ must have s_ome_ idea where she might have gone,' he added suspiciously.

Severus was silent as he stared at the man in front of him.

'You are mistaken, Lucius. Unlike you, I am _still_ in our Dark Lord's…_good grace_, as you so call it. I managed to apprehend the Granger girl and bring her to the castle.' Severus crept closer towards Lucius. 'Unfortunately, _your _son botched what was to be a perfect opportunity for a simple kidnapping scheme while the Mudblood still resided at her home,' he replied in a dark voice.

Severus turned from Lucius Malfoy, and walked a few steps. Suddenly, he turned back around.

'If anything, Lucius – it is _you _who has fallen out of our Lord's graces,' he stated, a smirk lining his sallow face.

With that, the Potions Master turned around quickly and exited through the front doors of the home. He walked swiftly down the gravel-lined road, and apparated right in front of the main gates.

The first thought that came to Severus' mind when he apparated in the courtyard of Hogwarts castle, was that he was absolutely sickened and disgusted at himself for calling Hermione a 'Mudblood.' It pained him to use that term of words. She was nowhere near deserving of such a degrading and inhumane title. He shook his head softly in disgust and closed his eyes as he approached the main doors of the castle.

Within that time, Hermione Granger had quietly made her way down the marble staircase, all the way into the Great Hall. With a sweaty palm, she pressed against the door, and with a loud groan, the door opened. Hermione's heart rate increased as she heard the door's cry. Hopefully, everyone was already in bed, and would not pay any form of attention to the noise she just created.

Hermione snuck into the Great Hall and with the door still opened, took a moment to take in her surroundings.

The Hall was absolutely…_breathtaking._

A few short hours ago, the room was buzzing, alive with excitement. And now, the hall was completely silent. The moon shown in the windows, giving the tables a luminous glow this late in the evening. The emptiness of the hall, albeit a tad bit eerie, was somehow gloriously serene for the time being. Even the floor was quite remarkable, Hermione surmised.

After a few moments, the young witch made her way up to the now empty head table. Hermione squinted in the dim light, and did indeed make out the shape and size of her familiar sweater. The young witch smiled, and grabbed her precious piece of clothing. Smiling to herself and with a wave of relief across her face, Hermione quickly walked towards the exit. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowed, and turned around to face the head table.

She looked up, the smile fading just slightly from her face.

There were still candles floating amongst the ceiling. Unlit candles, idling silently within the Great Hall. They were bobbing up and down ever so slightly within the darkened room.

Hermione squinted her eyes, taking a closer look at the objects floating feet above her.

…And then she had a thought.

Perhaps it was because she was delighted in finding her sweater. Or because no one stopped her to inquire as to where she was headed tonight. Or even, maybe it was the look and feel of the room that put the young woman in a slightly better mood. It was a goofy idea; that was certain. But Hermione didn't care. _Who was around to see her anyway?_

_Oh what the hell_, she said to herself.

The young woman placed her sweater on one of the nearby tables. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she slowly took out her wand. She pointed it at a random candle high above her.

'_Incendio_,' she said softly, still pointed at the candle. She felt a wave of power go through her arm, and instantly the candle lit.

Hermione smiled a bit more.

With her wand, she pointed to a neighboring candle.

'Incendio,' she called a bit stronger, and to her amusement, the candle lit within an instant.

Suddenly, Hermione had gotten another idea. Ever so slowly, she slipped her wand back into her robes. She extended her arm, and with her hand out, pointed one finger at one of the many unlit candles.

'Incendio,' she commanded. Once again, although this time more stronger, she felt the magic flow through her body, commanding the candle to light. Hermione's eyes opened wide at the success of her wandless magic. Again the young woman looked at another candle. With the opposite arm raised, she shouted, 'Incendio,' and the candle lit in an instant.

All of a sudden, the young woman closed her eyes. Slowly, she raised both arms. With feet slightly apart, she raised her slender arms towards the ceiling of the castle.

'Incendio' she bellowed. Hermione felt a burst of energy shoot through her body. All of the candles that were unlit within the ceiling of the Great Hall were suddenly illuminated. The fireplaces roared with vigor. Even the sconces on the walls became alive their shadows of fire dancing upon the marble walls.

Hermione opened her eyes and chuckled to herself ever so slightly. With her mouth gaping, she gazed upon the room in wonder – amazed at what she had done.

…_As was the figure standing in back of her; a man idling within the doorway, admiring her abilities firsthand._

Severus Snape watched as Hermione raised her arms as if she were in slow motion. _How she commanded the magic to flow through her. _It was truly a sight to see. She performed controlled _and _purposeful wandless magic after not using magic in so many years.

It made him smile inwardly to himself. And in the very same instant made him incredibly sad.

Severus lowered his eyes, and turned around, continuing his way up the grand staircase to the Headmistress' quarters, soon sharing the concerns of the Death Eaters meeting with her.

With a single word, Hermione managed to light everything in that room. _Every god-damned thing_. And with _such_ power and strength. Only a powerful witch or wizard could perform such magic.

For such a _luminous _event, such as the one that he just witnessed before him, it was in fact truly heartbreaking; heartbreaking that the woman who commanded the scene - a woman who had more power and more leverage than she could have ever imagined, had a future that was…_just as dim..._

As well as incredibly uncertain…


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione willed herself to go to sleep. But as luck would have it, sleep would not come. She lay tossing and turning in her bed, her mind going a mile a minute, struggling not only with the stale silence that embraced her, but also with the bed sheet that managed to entangle around her bottom torso.

Hermione turned to look at her bedside clock and frowned. She turned to focus her eyes on the bedroom ceiling, and then closed them, coaxing her body to relax. The only thing she could focus on were the millions of thoughts and memories running through her brain...

..._the most recent memory of her beloved feline, the comforting smell of dinner, the candles in the great hall, Harry's scar, holding Snape's hand out in the courtyard, poisoning that poor old woman, the cold, leathery feel of her car's steering wheel as she sped to the bridge_...

Hermione's eyes shot open. Her mind was on overload, and it was obvious it was not shutting down any time soon.

The young woman dragged a slender arm out beneath her quilt and pinched her nose, closing her eyes in the process.

She was disgusted. Frustrated. Nervous.

…_Nervous?..._

Hermione snorted. She removed her hand from her face, and plopped it down on the bed beside her with a muffled thud. Hermione shook her head subconsciously and gave a small groan, closing and slowly opening her eyes.

She knew exactly what this feeling felt like. Well, perhaps not exactly. _But quite enough similar to it_…

Hermione recalled the night before her first day as a resident in the hospital. Her stomach turned and jostled so badly it's a wonder she didn't spend the entire night hunched over the toilet bowl. She remembered trembling inwardly when she received her assignment on her very first day; the feeling of dread was remarkable.

...And here was Hermione Granger. _Dr. Hermione Granger_. Feeling that same sense of dread that she felt some years past.

But then Hermione had a second thought.

This would be different..._much_ different of course. Different atmosphere, different patient population; she was competent in her basic assessment skills, could rattle off pharmacological knowledge to anyone who would listen. This time...practicing at Hogwarts of all places...would prove to be _quite _different…

Hermione was a bit concerned performing medical magic. Worried that she would forget what she had learned years and years ago. It was like riding a bike, she thought to herself. The spells, the enchantments – _you don't really forget how to use them once you begin again_…

Eventually, the young woman drifted off to sleep. Before she knew it she was greeted by the streaming sunlight of a crisp fall morning. Hermione silently cursed the new day and frowned at the sight of her alarm clock. Though she woke up before her alarm, she knew it was pointless to return to sleep. As she began to get dressed for the day, she silently recalled various healing spells and medical remedies for some of the conditions she thought she would come across. Broken bones, uncharacterized rashes, uncontrollable hair growth - whatever would come her way, Hermione was ready.

_Or was she?_

The young woman exited her rooms and stood out in the hall, facing her door as she closed it. She stood for a moment, head still bent down staring at the old, faded doorknob, and listened.

There was an indistinguishable hum...the faded sound of many people talking. Quick footsteps. Carefree laughter; even a short high-pitched shriek or two.

Hermione swallowed hard.

This was it.

_No turning back now__…_

They had her where they wanted her. Practicing medicine was her Achilles heel. _And they knew that…_

Hermione closed her eyes and turned around, willing herself to be strong, assertive...and most of all, not break down emotionally in front of any-

Suddenly, Hermione slammed into something so hard, that it knocked the wind out of her. She felt herself tumble backwards, but was caught by two strong arms in the process.

Hermione, still with her back arched, only about a foot from the ground, looked up and focused on a pair of dark brown eyes.

The arms scooped her upwards in an instant, and set her upright again.

Hermione took a second to take in her surroundings, placing one hand on her forehead, her eyes wide, staring at the figure in front of her. The wind had been knocked out of her, and quite honestly, she wanted to give herself a few moments to grasp what had just occurred. Dropping her hand by her side, her eyes suddenly narrowed at the figure and she addressed him quite hastily.

'Why in God's name would you_ do_ something like that?' she asked in an exasperated tone, her heart beating forcefully.

Severus Snape lowered his eyes and took a step towards Hermione.

'I do say, Miss Granger - if this is the way you're going to be starting off the school year, I would be more afraid for those whom you intend to treat,' he snarled sarcastically.

Hermione felt her hands curl into fists.

_He really knew how to get under her skin__… _

At the sound of his curt reply, Hermione felt her lips forming a tight line hiding her perfectly aligned clenched teeth.

Without another word, she began walking towards the grand staircase, making sure that she purposefully knocked into his arm with her shoulder. Hard. He budged ever so slightly, yet Hermione was sure he got the message.

When she turned the corner and stepped on the first descending marble step, she turned around to make sure he wasn't following her. Luckily, he wasn't. Hermione turned back around and winced, grabbing her now throbbing shoulder. She generously rubbed her affected limb all the way to the great hall…

Breakfast turned out to be quite uneventful. Hermione spent time chatting with the Headmistress, making small talk with Hagrid regarding Care of Magical Creatures, and drinking so many cups of coffee, her hands were visibly shaking. She looked down at her hands midsentence and frowned.

_Way to go, Granger..._

After breakfast, rosters were handed out, the students dispersed to their individual classes, and Hermione found herself walking in step with Madame Pomfrey to the hospital wing.

Hermione arrived at the hospital wing and smiled slightly. The smell. The neat, well-made beds. Even the sight of tongue depressors and cotton balls gave her a mild high.

It was different than when she was last in the hospital wing. When she thought she were dead. When she snapped, ripping the doors of their hinges. Hermione shuddered at the very thought. She had made a promise to herself to control her temper. _To control her emotions_. And that was something that was a work in progress.

She had not realized that Madame Pomfrey wasn't in the room with her until she saw the older woman coming from one of the adjacent storage rooms. In her hand was something white.

Madame Pomfrey smiled kindly at the younger woman before her.

'I know that Muggle Doctors wear these. I don't expect you to dress as I do, and I thought...' her eyes had a twinge of sadness to them, '...I thought you would appreciate a sort of..._normalcy_ in your life...' she added as an afterthought, looking at the white piece of clothing in her arms.

Madame Pomfrey placed the coat in Hermione's arms. The young woman lifted it up to examine the object. It looked exactly like her own coat, except instead of a name tag, her name was carefully embroidered in royal blue into the fabric: _Dr. Hermione Granger._

Hermione smiled softly at the lettering. It was true, what Madame Pomfrey said. The coat did in fact feel like a bit of normalcy, a familiar object in her unpredictable life. _And it felt good_...

Hermione slipped the coat on and felt an instant sense of pride.

Just then, a voice came from the entrance to the Infirmary.

Hermione turned around to see a young boy shuffle into the hospital wing. He looked pale, sickly. With big eyes and a less than reassuring look on his face, he stammered, 'I don't feel so good.' Hermione swallowed. She hurried over to the young boy. And as luck would have it, just as she was within reach of the young lad, he proceeded to empty the remnants of breakfast...all over her new shoes. Somehow, that was happening to her a lot lately…

Hermione's day continued to improve after her first incident. A broken arm from a first-year flying lesson, a swollen hand with puffy purple purulent spots thanks to a Herbology class, and a bruised forehead from a self inflicted spell gone awry were just some of Dr. Granger's first day maladies. As the day passed on, one could see her coat fluttering behind her as she treated one student after the next, reciting spells and incantations, providing medicine and such as directed by Madame Pomfrey. Hermione remembered and was able to recall many of the methods to treat the students. She also found a way to meld her own assessment skills and treatments in with magical healing.

Hermione found herself so busy at one point, the thought of eating lunch had completely escaped her mind. It wasn't until Harry shoved a giant ham sandwich in front of a newly bandaged foot that she took the liberty to scarf down some sustenance before carrying on with her work.

'Wow, Hermione! I've never seen the hospital wing so busy...and yet so...under control,' Harry admitted, looking around the room. Yes, it was evident that just about every cot was taken up. But Hermione appeared to be in control_. Cool and calm_. And was that a smile he just saw upon her face? Harry could have sworn that he just saw Hermione smile when she bent down to grab the delicious looking sandwich before one of her patients did.

'Yes, it is busy. But, Harry...,' she turned away from one of the cots, her back to the student she was currently treating, '...it's not so, bad...I don't know...I think it helps me keep my mind off of...things...and since it's obvious you won't let me get back to my old routine, I suppose...I suppose this is the next best thing. So...' she paused a minute to look at the ground, and then looked up at Harry with eyes full of emotion: _'thank you_. Thank you for letting me do this,' she said quietly, a small smile upon her lips.

Harry gave Hermione a warm smile.

'Anything for you, Mione. And really - Madame Pomfrey needed the help. You're excellent, 'Mione! I mean just...just look around,' he added pleasingly. 'You're one hell of a doctor!'

Harry leaned closer to Hermione, whispering in her ear.

'..._And word around the castle has it that you have so many customers simply due to the fact that some of these guys sitting here fancy you. No joke - you are one beautiful healer'_ he added with a sideways grin.

Hermione blushed.

'Oh Harry,' Hermione sighed, cocking her head ever so slightly. 'You flatter me,' she said with a grin. Harry shrugged his shoulders. 'I'm just speaking the truth, Hermione. _Only the truth_...' his last words echoed throughout the wing as he headed through the double doors into the hall.

As time passed, the hospital wing began to empty out, little by little. As the sun began to set, Hermione took a look around and noticed that the cots were empty. The beds were made. And all was silent for the time being. Hermione felt a familiar pang, and instantly reached up to massage her shoulder. It had gotten quite a work out toady, and due to her stubbornness early this morning – well, it was her own fault for the injury. Hermione mindlessly rubbed her painful joint, when suddenly she heard two sets of footsteps behind her.

Hermione quickly turned around to see a tall figure clad in black escorting what looked to be like a hobbling second year Ravenclaw student.

Hermione frowned.

'What happened here?' Her voice echoed in the nearly empty room as she began approaching the pair.

'Mr. Pearson was cleaning cauldrons and accidentally dropped one on his foot,' Severus Snape sarcastically pointed out.

Hermione went over to the boy and helped him to one of the empty cots. As he released his arm from around her aching shoulder, she winced in pain, making a mental note to take something for her ailment later on.

Once she had the boy settled, she began her examination. First with a brief assessment, and then down to the real problem at hand. She was fluid in her words and actions, her skills precise and well honed. At one point, she noticed the boy seemed a bit anxious that Snape was lingering in the shadows. She bent down to the boy's level.

'You know, the sorting hat was going to put me in Ravenclaw too,' she whispered to the boy, a smile upon her lips. The boy smiled slightly in return. 'What changed its mind?' he whispered back at her. Hermione grinned. 'Well, I heard that the girl's Gryffindor rooms were a lot bigger, and the beds were more comfortable,' she whispered back, managing to chuckle at the thought of her then 11 year old mind.

The student laughed at Hermione's words, and for a second, the two seemed to share an instant bond.

Severus cleared his throat, Hermione guessing he was annoyed at their amiable interaction.

She turned around to face the figure standing on the other side of the room.

'You do not have to stay. Please feel free to continue doing…_whatever _you were doing,' she added assertively, noticing her mouth growing dry.

Severus crossed his arms.

'I will wait,' he added matter-of-factly.

Hermione sighed and turned back around. She shook her head slightly. So difficult..._so unnecessarily difficult..._

After Hermione finished the spell for healing a bruised bone, she gave the boy a type of analgesic to drink for the pain, and sent him on his way. Instead of accompanying the student back to class, the Potions Master dismissed him to dinner, reminding the poor boy that due to his inability to keep his mouth shut during class, tomorrow he would once again resume his cauldron cleaning duties after class.

Hermione offered the boy a sad look and saw him out of the wing, a hand on his shoulder leading him to the exit. She turned back to look at the man now standing in front of one of the windows in the infirmary.

Hermione strode back to where Severus was standing.

'Well?' she asked, her arms crossed in front of her.

Severus continued looking out the window. He took notice of the lake bordering the castle. How peaceful, how serene it looked against the setting sun. Severus inhaled and exhaled slowly.

'There will be a meeting tonight. At Headquarters. Surely, you remember where that is located…' he added quietly, still looking out the window. 'The Order will be present. There is some…news regarding Helen Crawford,' he stated as an afterthought.

Hermione's eyes opened wide and she took a step towards Severus.

'What sort of…news,' she inquired, feeling her heart quicken.

Severus turned around.

For a brief moment, he did something he had not done in some time.

…Severus lost his train of thought…

The way Hermione stood in front of him. How she was standing – poised, yet strong. Her hair falling softly about her face. Her lips parted ever so gently. The way the setting sun played against her figure. She was…_beautiful,_ he thought.

Severus closed his eyes.

He didn't know what was happening to himself. These thoughts…they were very unlike him. It felt unsettling. And he quickly corked his emotions as soon as they surfaced.

'I am not sure what news will be shared,' Severus stated, walking towards Hermione and stopping only feet from the entrance to the infirmary. '-_however, I do not expect it to be promising,_' he added quietly, turning to look at her.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her chest. She closed her eyes, beckoning the prickling tears to stay where they were. For a moment, she stayed where she was, her back towards the Potions Master, willing herself to keep her control.

After a few moments of silence, she turned towards Severus.

'What time is the meeting,' she asked quietly.

'After the students return to their houses for the evening,' Severus stated.

Hermione nodded. She absolutely had to go to the meeting. Had to find out the details surrounding Miss Crawford's disappearance.

Hermione began walking towards the exit to the infirmary when Severus stopped and held out her white coat. Without a word, she took the coat in her hand, and placed it on a hook beside the door to Madame Pomfrey's office. She walked past Severus, when suddenly she heard him speak to her.

'Miss Granger, I thought you were right handed. Interesting that you hung your coat up with your _left hand_,' he added dryly, a smirk upon his lips.

…_He _knew she had injured herself earlier that morning.

…_She_ didn't know that a freshly brewed pain relieving salve was waiting for her next to her bed.

Hermione kept walking, heading down the steps of the grand staircase.

'_Cheeky bastard_,' she muttered under her breath, yet just loud enough for Severus to hear as the two made their way down to dinner in the Great Hall.


	21. Chapter 21

Hermione quickly ate her supper in the Great Hall with the rest of the staff and students. The warm, viscous stew filled her stomach, and the pumpkin juice went down quite smoothly. She made little conversation at the head table that evening, most likely due to the fact that once again, her mind was caught wondering.

…_Hermione thought about Helen Crawford. And how she was still missing... _

She thought about Crookshanks.

She even thought back to how she tried to end her life just a few short days ago.

All that aside, she wondered to herself why she was brought here in the first place. What Harry and Snape meant when it was time for her to use magic again. _To trust them_. How it was absolutely necessary to bring her to the castle. And _those_ people…those horrible and despicable people who work for you-know-who…how _they _had found her…

All the information was proving to be quite cryptic. And Hermione had a gut feeling that a huge piece of information was deliberately being kept from her.

…That didn't settle well with her. _At all..._

Hermione took a final sip of pumpkin juice. Even before she had a chance to swallow, her cheeks still puffed with liquid, she placed her empty goblet on the wooden table with a dull _thud _and pushed her chair out with her feet. She swiftly stood up, placing her red-colored cloth napkin haphazardly alongside her plate, and left the Great Hall without a word to anyone.

Harry frowned, his hand mid air with a fork full of cherry pie.

Though he was seated next to Ginny Weasley, not but two seats away from the young woman, he knew she was thinking. Something was going on in that brilliant brain of hers. She was quiet and reserved this evening. And she had gotten up rather quickly from her seat, making her way out of the Great Hall before anyone could question her.

Harry turned his head to look at Severus seated at the other end of the table. The Potions Master was watching the young woman leave, a look of disproval on his face. He turned his head towards Harry, as if he expected this silent interaction between them. The two looked at each other for a moment. Before Severus knew it, Harry had placed his fork down, a sliver of pie still placed on the fork' edge, and excused himself from supper.

Hermione trudged up the steps towards her quarters.

She wanted to be alone. _To clear her mind, to think._

It had been a busy day. A good, but albeit busy day. Hermione craved a bit of silence.

…_A moment to sort through her thoughts…_

The young woman took hold of the old doorknob to her quarters and opened the door. Quietly, she closed it with a soft _click_ and took off her white coat. She plopped herself down on one of the ivory armchairs in her quarters, tossing the coat onto the sofa that was seated across from her. She eased out of her clogs, letting them dangle and drop onto the floor below. Tucking her feet and legs under her, she inhaled and exhaled deeply. Her hand absentmindedly began combing through her brown locks.

Tonight, she would attend the meeting at Headquarters. A place she had not dared enter or think about for that matter for a very, _very_ long time. She wondered if the place had changed any; if the house still had the same musty odor and had the same peeling regal wallpaper in most of the bedrooms. She wondered if anyone was living there permanently, or if the house was merely used for the occasional meeting or dinner gathering.

Hermione had many good memories within the confines of that particular house.

Thinking back to those times, she was unaware that her after-dinner reminiscing had placed a small smile on her face.

The young woman sighed.

Hermione stood up and grabbed her coat that laid idle on the sofa. Walking towards her room, she placed her coat on a silver hook located on the back of her bedroom door and took a moment to open one of the drawers in her dresser.

One of Hermione's favorite activities after finishing a hard day in the healthcare world was to come home and change into something comfortable. Or at least something she found comforting. And this was _exactly_ what Hermione subconsciously found herself doing after her first day on the job.

She pulled out an old pair of jeans, a long sleeve v-neck dark green cotton shirt, and a pair of her most comfortable multicolored gray socks. She slipped on a dark gray pair of trainers that were horrifically old yet ungodly comfortable and tied the worn, tattered laces ever so carefully.

Hermione placed a dark blue kettle on the stove in her kitchen. She wanted to make herself a cup of tea while she read through more of the books that Snape had given her the other day. Though she had read through most of them, it never hurt to read and _re-read _she told herself. Besides, sometimes there are things that you miss while reading the second time around…

Without Hermione's knowledge, the neon alarm clock numbers in the young woman's bedroom flashed 10:00. Hermione had no concept of time. All she knew was that the sun was gone and she was about to get started on her third cup of tea. Suddenly, there was a soft rapping on the door to her quarters.

Hermione startled. She looked up from her book and took a moment to regard the knocking. She steadily stood up from where she was seated and headed cautiously towards the door. Hermione pulled back the door every so slowly and was surprised to see the figure of the woman before her.

'Hi Hermione!' Luna exclaimed, wrapping her slender arms around the young woman. 'Great to see you! You have such a lovely home! Is that a Muggle magazine?' she asked, peering past the young woman's shoulder. Luna abruptly broke the tight embrace to make a beeline for Hermione's coffee table.

Hermione stood dumbstruck in her doorway still facing the outside corridor. She blinked a few times and spoke out into the hallway.

'Hi, Luna. Yes, it is wonderful to see you as well. And yes, that is a Muggle magazine. Help yourself,' her words echoed into the hallway, as Hermione then closed the door and turned around to face her guest.

Luna had made herself quite comfortable in one of the white overstuffed chairs in Hermione's living quarters. In her hands was an old copy of '_House and Garden'_ magazine. She was thumbing through the pages with such fervor that Hermione couldn't help but stifle a smile.

Hermione cleared her throat.

'Find anything good in there?' she inquired dryly, staring down at the blond headed witch. Hermione watched Luna's eyes dart back and forth while skimming through the magazine.

'Oh yes, Hermione. I've always been fascinated with Muggle magazines. They cover so many topics, yet I feel they are lacking in some aspect or another,' Luna dreamily commented. She looked up at Hermione with eyes the color of the sky. 'Especially in the recipe section,' she added.

'Might I borrow this one?' she asked Hermione, lifting up the magazine with both hands as it was still open for browsing.

Hermione smiled softly.

'Luna, better yet – it is yours. _Take i_t,' Hermione motioned with her hands, offering the slightly outdated piece of reading material to one of her old friends.

Luna beamed.

'Oh thank you, thank you! What a wonderful gift. Hermione Granger, you still have one of the kindest hearts I know of!'

And for the second time that evening, Luna leapt from her chair and gave Hermione a gigantic hug.

The young witch stood with her hands by her side, her eyes darting about the room as she wondered how many other times tonight she would be the recipient of an impromptu embrace by her old acquaintance.

'Oh!' Luna exclaimed, letting her hands fall and taking a step back from Hermione.

'-we must go. If we don't go now, I fear we will be late. And I always like to get a seat by the door in case I have to use the loo,' she said softly, taking Hermione by her hand leading her to the young witch's unlit fireplace across the room.

…_Hermione need not ask where they were headed. _

She watched Luna take a handful of Floo powder from a small light blue colored bucket next to the fireplace. Dragging Hermione into the fireplace with her, the blond witch dreamily stated, '_Number 12 Grimmauld Place'_ and with a green flash, they were immediately transported.

Hermione coughed, waving her hand in front of her as a natural reflex to the dust and smoke.

She remembered hating travelling by Floo. Almost as much as she hated flying. Flying would always be at the top of her list, but using the Floo system would remain a close second.

As the dust settled, Hermione took in her surroundings. She took one step forward from the fireplace, her other foot following. She dusted of her shirt and pants, and took out the rubber band from her hair allowing the dust particles to be freed from her tresses.

As Hermione combed her fingers through her hair, she continued to peer around the room.

She was in one of the bedrooms in Grimmauld Place, one of the bedrooms on the second floor. The century old wallpaper was peeling, _naturally,_ and the bed was far from being made. One of the curtains was missing a tie and the rug looked like it hadn't been vacuumed in years.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath in.

…_it even smelled the same…_

…_After all this time._

Apparently, Luna did not share in the same reminiscing because Hermione soon realized that she was being dragged down the rickety wooden staircase towards the narrow, dimly lit hallway that led to the kitchen.

Hermione heard voices coming from the other side of the door.

The young witch felt the adrenaline soar in her veins. She felt her palms grow sweaty and her mouth go dry.

Luna paused just before the door and smiled kindly at Hermione.

'Ready?' she asked quietly, a small smile on her face.

Hermione swallowed. Hard. The only reply she could offer was the nod of her head in the direction of the kitchen.

Luna swung the door open, and Hermione took a firsthand look at the people who now surrounded her.

An occasional glance here or there was all that Hermione received as she entered the cramped quarters. The young witch gathered that perhaps Harry or Professor McGonagall had told the Order Members ahead of time not to make a spectacle of Hermione's presence. For that, she was utmost grateful.

As predicted, Luna sat down in one of the empty seats directly by the door. She placed her newly obtained copy of 'Home and Garden' on the wooden table directly in front of her and began chatting with one of the Weasley twins.

Hermione took in her surroundings and thankfully found a somewhat secluded seat in the one corner of the kitchen by the stove. She believed this too to be a deliberate move on their part. She gingerly moved towards her seat, giving small curt smiles and nods to those that she passed as she made her way to the wooden chair in the corner.

Hermione sat down in the seat located next to Nymphadora Tonks.

'_Hermione_,' the purple-haired witch smiled genuinely, squeezing the young doctor on her shoulder. 'It is so, so _good_ to see you! You have no idea. Missed you loads, so much has happened since you've been gone-'

Just then, Minerva McGonagle got up from her seat.

'Excuse me everyone, thank you. Thank you for your attendance tonight. Our meeting will be brief, _yes_?' she inquired, looking towards the direction of Severus Snape, seated at the opposite end of the cramped kitchen next to Kingsley Shacklebot.

Severus with his arms crossed in front of himself, offered no reply.

'Yes, well. We may have some insight into the disappearance of Helen Crawford. _Severus?_' Minerva gestured her hand towards the Potion Master as she gently sat back down in her seat located in the middle of the table.

Hermione crossed her legs and sat back in her seat. A hand shot out in front of her and placed a cup of tea directly in her vision on the worn wooden table in front of her.

Hermione looked up at the owner of the hand.

Molly Weasely kindly smiled down at the young woman, her eyes squinting in the dim light. Her cheeks appeared rosy considering the warmth of the stove that hovered within the corner of the room.

'Thought you'd like a cup. _I always knew you to be an evening tea drinker_,' she whispered to Hermione before going back to the stove.

Hermione felt her heart pang. That was a most kind gesture. An unexpected gesture. And Hermione, for the briefest moment, felt the walls of her defense begin to shake and start to crumble.

…_Molly remembered…even after all these years…_

Severus Snape got up from his seat and crossed his arms.

'Helen Crawford, as you may know, was an old friend of Dumbledore's. She was a simple squib who's help we could not do without.'

Snape managed to look towards Hermione's direction.

But Hermione didn't return his gaze.

Instead, she was looking towards where Luna was sitting. Hermione placed her gaze on the colorful magazine on the wooden table. Her eyes drifted down to the table, seated next to Luna was Harry, who instinctively had a protective arm around none other than Ginny Weasley.

_Ginny, of course! _Hermione thought to herself.

_How stupid was I not to have asked! Have I been that consumed that I didn't even take notice? God, how daft I've become. _ _I hadn't gotten a chance to ask Harry if the two of them were still together…well I suppose it's evident that the two of them are still dating. I wonder if-_

But Hermione's thoughts were jilted. As if in slow motion, Hermione noticed Ginny's left hand remove a dainty seagreen-colored porcelain cup from its saucer. What caught the young witch's eye was not the cup itself. Rather, it was Ginny's hand.

A silver ring with three diamonds sat on her ring finger, the diamonds reflecting what little light there was provided within the kitchen. The exquisite set of stones were accompanied by a plain silver band closest to Ginny's pale knuckle.

…_Hermione's eyes went wide._

While Severus was still speaking, Hermione leaned over towards Tonks' direction.

'_Tonks_,' Hermione whispered, '-_Ginny's ring is beautiful, isn't it. I just took notice. Have…have Harry and Ginny been engaged for long_?' she asked quietly, never bothering to take her eyes off the exquisite piece of jewelry.

Tonks tilted her head slightly towards Hermione's direction. She smiled sadly, looking at Ginny and then eyeing the young woman beside her.

'_Hermione…I thought…I thought you knew_…_Harry and Ginny had gotten married… three years ago_,' she said softly.

Hermione swallowed hard.

She felt slightly light headed, her mouth suddenly dry as cotton.

It's not that she wasn't happy for the pair of them. Rather, she was surprised. Stunned. And mildly upset. The news caught her completely off guard, that much was certain.

_How could he hide such a thing from me? _ Hermione thought to herself. _He wanted me to trust him, to let down my guard. And this? He failed to mention this? Did he not think this was a piece of information that he would share with an 'old friend' as he so-called it?_

Hermione felt the anger begin to swell within her chest.

Suddenly, she heard Severus call her name. Her thoughts were interrupted as her head snapped up to look at the Potions Master, her eyes remaining wide.

'…and it is Hermione Granger that they are after,' he added with emphasis, willing the young woman to focus back on the matter at hand.

Hermione swallowed.

'The new information is that they will offer a trade. Hermione Granger in turn for Helen Crawford,' he stated solemnly, pausing to look at a water mark on the table in front of him.

Remus Lupin snorted.

'Well of _course_, Severus. It is a trap, nothing but. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we will _not _participate in this deal. I don't believe any more discussion is necessary,' he stated matter-of-factly, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

The Headmistress nodded her head.

'I agree entirely, Remus. Severus, we have absolutely _no _way of knowing that this would work. More likely, this would be a trap for not only Hermione but for the rest of us as well,' she added with a look of worry on her face.

Harry piped up.

'I know that we are running out time, not one of us seated will deny that. However, this isn't the way we will conduct business. We're obviously not ready. _We don't even have a plan_,' he added, looking through crooked spectacles towards Hermione's direction.

Severus took this opportunity to quietly sit back in his seat. The chair gave forth a tired groan as he sat back down.

'I do not disagree with any of you. I am merely stating what has been overheard. To my knowledge via hearsay, Helen Crawford is still…_very much alive_. The DeathEaters are aware of Miss Granger's fondness towards the old woman, and believe that in her weakness she would go looking for the squib,' he added looking at Hermione.

Hermione frowned.

_Unbelieveable_, she thought to herself. She was angry that they were speaking about her, talking amongst themselves as if she weren't even in the room.

…But what angered her more was that she was too stunned to offer her own opinion to the crowd. It's as if Tonks' answer to her question temporarily left Hermione without a voice.

They were all talking about her and all she could offer was stunned silence.

Kingsley Shackelbot stood up.

'Well, then it is settled,' he bellowed. 'We will not make a move until we have more information. Severus, you have done well and we appreciate what you do for the Order. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get back to the Ministry,' he added with a small bow.

The rest of the table stood up. Some lined up by the fireplace in the kitchen to travel by Floo. Others gathered around a tan-colored boot that was placed on the table by Arthur Weasley. Tonks nodded towards the boot.

'Portkey back to Hogwarts, Hermione. Better grab a lace,' she winked. Remus appeared behind Nymphadora Tonks, guiding her towards the fireplace by the small of her back.

Hermione felt the anger rise in her chest once again.

The young witch slowly walked around the table. She took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. Placing her hand on the heel of the boot, several of the Order Members were swiftly transported back to Hogwarts castle, landing in front of the fountain in the courtyard.

Hermione spotted Harry across from her. She instantly felt her hands curl up into fists at her side.

Harry smiled at Hermione.

'Well Mione, how did you like your first meeting since you've been back? Been a few years, but nothing has changed really,' he added with a grin, his hand instinctively reaching for that of the red-headed woman beside him.

Hermione was furious. Her eyes narrowed.

'Oh Harry. A lot has changed. _More than you realize_.'

Hermione started walking towards the castle. She followed Hagrid inside Howarts, finally breaking her silence once she reached the top of the steps within the castle. Hermione quickly turned around towards Harry and Ginny who were closely behind.

'By the way…Congratulations are in order, I believe,' Hermione said dryly. She forced a fake smile upon her slightly damp lips.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, puzzled by Hermione's statement.

Ginny Weasely smiled softly, subconsciously placing a hand on her abdomen.

'Hermione_, how did you_-' Ginny started, but never had a chance to finish her sentence.

'All this time Harry, you told me to trust you. To…t_o let the walls down._ And tonight? Tonight I found out for the first time that the two of you are_ married_? And not as if you were married last month. Three years! _Three fucking years!_

Hermione began pacing, not taking notice to the Order Members that formed a semi-circle at the top of the steps just outside of the Great Hall, keeping their eye on Hermione. As if by instinct, Severus Snape reached into his pocket to keep a hand on his wand as a precaution.

'I feel like such a fool! My God, you couldn't have _told _me? Have I missed _everything_? Do you have anything else you'd like to share with me since apparently I have _no_ concept of anything anymore?' Hermione yelled, her voice echoing in the grand staircase.

…Harry looked at Hermione.

…Molly looked at Arthur.

…Minerva's lips formed a tight line.

…Severus closed his eyes.

'Hermione,' Ginny said softly in the most gentleness of tones, her eyes brimming with tears…

…'_I'm pregnant.'_


End file.
